


Harry Good Hands

by T32white



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Athletic training, Beer Pong!, Body Shots, English Football, Fun on a Training Table, Fun with Ice, Fun with Icy Hot, Harry is Not an Innocent Cupcake, High School AU, Louis Gets Hurt A Lot in Practice.....I Wonder Why?, M/M, Massage, Mild Teasing/Hazing, Oral Fixation, Sexually Frustrated Louis, Sports Medicine, Year 10 Harry, Year 12 Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 86,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T32white/pseuds/T32white
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is complete shit at soccer, but he absolutely loves the game.  And when Harry has to transfer back to school in England his freshman year, the only elective left open is athletic trainer to the football team.   Good thing Des is an orthopedist and Anne's a massage therapist and licensed in acupuncture.  Maybe Harry can find a way to help the team, after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time

"I'm sorry, Harry, but that's just the way it is. We've got to move. You're dad's new job is in Doncaster, so that's where we've got to go," Anne said for the hundredth time. "You know how much he wanted this job, sweetie. We're all just going to have to make a few sacrifices, Harry....you included."

"But why mom? I'm fixing to start high school, for crying out loud...and now you want to move us back to England? I just got settled here...I've got friends, mom. And I've actually got a shot of making the team here. I'll never make the team in England, mom...even you know that."

"Look, what's done is done. It's just the way it is, Harry," Anne placated in her best soothing, you'll be alright, voice. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her it stopped working when he was seven. "And you'll make friends, Harry...you always do."

Right....Harry thought to himself, as he walked out the back door--letting the screen door slam shut. What was his parents getting him into now? And Rovers? What the hell kind of name was that for a soccer team anyway? The Galaxy....now that was a team name you could be proud of. Fucking Rovers? Sounded like a bunch of begging dogs to Harry. This is going to blow, Harry thought...and all I can do about it is swallow. 

****************************************************

Harry walked the short distance to the park, cursing his fate the whole way. When he saw Daniel at the picnic table by the small pond, he made is way over, sat down, and grabbed the bottle out from between his best friends legs. 

"What's up, Harry? You alright, man?" 

"Yeah...why?" Harry answered in between swallows of cool brown liquid.

"Well....you're drinking the hard stuff, for starters. You've always been a beer man. What gives?"

"Nothing gives. Can't I just wanna speed up the process a little? I mean, fuck.... what are you, my mother?"

"Easy there, H. Sorry, man. Of course you can....just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Yeah, well. You don't know the half of it."

"You wanna tell me what's going on? You and Mark get in a fight or did your mom finally find out what you two do on your little "sleep overs."

"Fuck off," Harry muttered, his head finally swimming. 

Daniel was the first person Harry met when he was forced to move to New York three years ago. His dad's job that time, too. But Harry'd been 12, still a kid, really. But he wasn't a kid anymore. He grew up fast in the city...and he didn't want to leave. So he took a few more swallows and laid down on the table bench and seethed. I mean, fuck. He liked his life here. He had good friends--like Daniel--and then there was Mark. Sleep overs indeed. If his mom only knew. She'd probably kill his ass. 

"No, Harry finally answered, "Mark and I are good."

"You let him hit that yet?"

"What the fuck? Shut up and pass the bottle back. And where's Keith?"

"Why'd ya wanna know where that prick is?"

"Cause he's got the best weed...why else?"

"Harry...seriously...what's up with you? You don't get high hardly ever. Remember the time you went home just smelling like smoke and your dad almost killed you? You don't have the parents for it, dude."

"Fuck my parents, Daniel. They can fuck right off."

"Nobody says 'fuck right off' Harry. Your Brit is showing."

"Well, I guess I'd better start finding it again...seeing as how I'll be moving back there at the end of the month."

"What? Are you fucking serious? Why?"

"Dad's got a new job. Head orthopedist for some stupid English soccer team--and not Man U, if that's what you're thinking. That would actually be cool. Fuck, no....he got a job with the Doncaster Rovers. I don't even know, man."

"Well, let's get fucked up then, mate."

"Mate? Nobody says mate in New York," Harry said--rolling his eyes in the process.

"I know...but you said you need the practice. I remember when you first got here....it was mate this, mate that, take the piss, bloody hell....all that weird shit. We used to laugh at your ass so hard."

"Well, sorry I won't be around to amuse you much longer. Doesn't your brother get high? What the fuck are we still doing in this park? Let's to steal your brother's stash and go to Mark's. 

"Sounds like a plan."

"Indeed it does, mate. Indeed it does. And who knows, If I get high, maybe Mark will actually fuck me."

"Good luck with that, jail bait."

"Fuck off. I'm fifteen."

"Exactly. Mark's smart....he ain't going to jail for you...no matter how cute your ass is."

Mark wasn't exactly Harry's age--but he didn't give a shit. He was cute and fun to be around. He had taught Harry a thing or two about life and the bedroom. Nineteen wasn't that old, and besides, he had his own place--and he'd always let Harry chill out and get away from his parents when he needed to. And the blow jobs were fucking fantastic, to be honest. 

"I don't know how I'm going to tell him. I mean, it's not like we're together, exactly. But still."

"Maybe you can get a sympathy fuck out of it," Daniel spit out sarcastically, "If you played it right."

"Maybe. I don't know. We'll see. I'm gonna call my mom and tell her I'm at yours tonight, then. Cool?"

"Sure, Harry. What are friends for? Use me however you like."

"Fuck right off, mate. I'd do the same for you."

"As if. It's been so long I'd probably let you fuck me."

Harry laughed out loud and jumped on his best friends back and started thrusting his hips--screaming out obscenities the whole time.

"Get the fuck off me, man. I was just...uh...how did you used to say it....taking the piss?"

"Sure. Whatever. You know you want my dick," Harry laughed into his friends ear, still plastered on his back.

"No...but right now I might be desperate enough to pay a girl to get naked for me. Now get off!"

"Prince fucking Charming, is what you are." Harry kissed his best friends cheek and finally hopped down. 

On the way to Mark's, Harry convinced his mom to let him stay out for the night, but spent much of the trip contemplating his life. He wasn't in love...but he was fifteen. And he usually let his hormones take over when making important life decisions. And four hours later, when he found himself on top of his much older almost boyfriend-- he loved every fucking minute of it. Christ, why hadn't they done this sooner? He had no idea. Turns out he was rather gifted--and over the next month, Mark gave him every opportunity to perfect his skills. It was hard to leave, but time waits for nobody--and he soon found his ass on that plane to England--and on the way to his new, boring life. Did they even have decent weed in England? About fifteen minutes into the flight, he convinced the lovely flight attendant to sneak him a couple of mini bottles of Jack Daniels, drank them both in the airplane bathroom--and slept the rest of the way there.


	2. Number Seventeen

The first few weeks in Doncaster went exactly the way Harry had predicted they would--and he was bored as fuck. And now he had to go meet his new guidance counselor. His mom told him he needed to go up to the school and get his schedule set for the new year. All the other year ten's had already done it, she said. So Harry showered, threw on some jeans and a sweater--fuck--jumper--he reminded himself, and walked the few short blocks to his new school. From the outside it didn't look that much different from the prep academy he attended back in New York. And he figured the inside would be about the same, as well. High school kids were basically all the same, right? He shook his head and went in the side entrance his mother had pointed out the day before and found Mr. Horan's office--and knocked. 

"Come in."

"Uh...Hi....I'm Harry? Harry Styles. I'm here to get my new schedule?"

"Year ten, right?"

"Finally, yeah."

"OK...come on in then, and sit down. Give me a minute to pull your file."

Harry sat in the small, uncomfortable chair in front of the blonde man's desk. While he searched for his file, Harry looked around the room. It was cluttered chaos, to be honest, and Harry immediately liked the guy a little bit. Neat people freaked him out. His desk was littered with piles of papers and stacks of files, the usual stuff. Still waiting, Harry took a minute to look at Mr. Horan's framed pictures--and was just about to ask about one in particular, before his train of thought was interrupted.

"Styles...yeah...I got it right here..." Mr. Horan said as he looked over the transfer sheet. "Very impressive, actually. So tell me, Harry...what are your plans?"

"My plans? I have absolutely no idea."

"Well, now's the time to start thinking about it. I see on your transcript that you are transferring from Claremont Prep, is that right?"

"Uh...yeah...I got in early--I was supposed to go to 8th grade, but they let me enroll in 9th grade coursework after I aced their so-called placement exam, so."

"So, indeed." Mr. Horan put the file in a new stack and leaned back in his chair. "Well...we don't like to do this, but I don't think we have a choice this time. We have to list you as a ten to start...but if you do well, you can definitely take your A-levels early. And I want you to enroll in advanced classes. Year eleven. Do you have a problem being in class with older kids?"

"Nope," Harry smirked out, "Definitely not. Would prefer it, actually."

"Really...and why's that?"Mr. Horan questioned with genuine curiosity. He was starting to like this kid.

"I'm used to being around older guys. All my friends back home in New York were older than me, so it won't be a problem. I can handle them."

"I'm sure you can," Mr. Horan chuckled, "I'm sure you can."

"Can I ask you something Mr. Horan?"

"Sure, Harry. Just let me fill out this form real quick....there....now...what is it you want to know?"

"You don't sound English. Not one single 'mate this whole time. Where are you from?"

"Ireland, actually. Well, originally, anyway. I attended college in Seattle and moved here for this position."

"Do you like it here, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, exactly. It's just so quiet here, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But don't worry, you'll get used to it."

"It just seems so small, though. Like everyone would know your business or whatever."

"Does that worry you, Harry?" Mr. Horan wondered as he once again leaned back in his chair and took in the student before him. The girls were gonna love him, and he thought he'd fit in nicely after a few weeks of the normal new-student teasing routine. He had a feeling Harry could handle his own. He could tell this question was important to Harry, so even though he didn't know him at all, he decided to push the point a little harder.

"Is there something specific you're worried about? Something you want to tell me?"

"Well.....uh....I'm not trying to get personal or anything, Mr. Horan...but I noticed that picture on your desk....the one with you and your friend? And I was wondering if that's OK...you know....here.....at this school? I mean...if someone was...uh....into guys and all." Harry sat nervously picking at his nail as he spoke. 

"You don't miss anything, do you Harry?" Mr. Horan said as he nervously took the picture of him and his friend off his desk and slid it into his desk drawer. 

"I'm sorry....I didn't mean to embarrass you...but that picture...nobody looks at their brother or uncle like that, mate."

Mr. Horan took a deep breath. 

"No....I suppose they don't. I don't keep that on my desk during the school year....it's Summer break."

"So is it OK, then? Not for you, I mean, that's you're private business....but for....a student here?" 

"I suppose it is. It might be difficult, at first. I don't really know. I've never had a student ask me this before, Harry. I really don't know what to say."

"Oh...that's alright, Mr. Horan. It's just I'm not used to hiding who I am. In New York nobody gave a shit....oh, sorry...gave a...well, nobody cared, really. I just get the feeling that this place won't be the same."

"No...I suppose it won't be, Harry. Maybe you should just focus on your studies for the time being until people get to know you? I was serious when I said you could take your tests early."

"I know. I guess I could always date girls for a while...if that would make things easier. Would it, ya think?"

"Do you always ask people you've just met questions like this? I take it your parents know, then?"

"Oh, absolutely. I can't act for shit...uh, sorry....for anything. My mom probably knew before I did, and my dad just laughed when I told him. And no...I'm not usually this open with people I don't know...but after the picture....I just thought you might understand?"

"I guess I do, Harry. Just...be patient. Let people here get to know you, first. Like I said, just focus on your studies and everything else will work itself out."

"I'll make you a deal, Mr. Horan."

"What kind of a deal, Harry?" Mr. Horan countered with caution and humor in his voice.

"I'll take these advanced classes...and do better than anyone else here...but you've got to do something for me."

"And what would that be, Harry?"

"You've got to take that picture out of your drawer and put it back on your desk where it belongs. You should never be ashamed of who or how you love, Mr. Horan. It just ain't right."

Mr. Horan laughed out loud and reopened Harry's file. 

"Well.....Harry...advanced classes it is, then. The only thing left to figure out is what elective you want to take. Says here you played soccer? Did you want to try out for the team?"

"No way....not good enough. Love the game, but don't have the feet. I barely saw the field last year, anyway. I just stayed on the team because...uh....well....never mind why...I just love it."

Mr. Horan laughed again and gave Harry a knowing nod. He'd played sports for the same reason not all that long ago. 

"Well...let's see....it's either office aid or football trainer. That's all that's left, I'm afraid."

"Mr. Horan....seriously....do I even need to tell you which one I'd prefer?"

Harry held eye contact with his new guidance counselor for a few seconds, waiting. 

"Trainer, then. Right." Mr. Horan scribbled down Harry's choice on the pink schedule form. Harry could tell he was working hard to keep the smirk off his face, but he was failing miserably. It made Harry like him even more. 

"So...here's your schedule then. And Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"My door is always open. Just in case you ever need to talk or something?"

"Yeah, OK, Mr. Horan. And thanks."

"No problem. Oh...by the way....you should probably go out to the pitch. Coach Simon and Coach Paul are out there right now. Team captains and varsity players already reported, so it would be a good opportunity to introduce yourself and get to know the trainer's responsibilities."

"Really?" Harry replied with a little too much excitement in his voice.

"Absolutely....and Harry...remember what I said about staying focused?"

"Sure," Harry said smiling, "and you remember what I said about that picture, yeah?"

Mr. Horan watched the new student rise from his chair, shake his hand, and leave--obviously on the way out to the pitch--if the smile on his face meant anything. He reminded him of himself, at one time. He stared at the door for a few minutes--thinking about what the kid had said. And by the time he left for the afternoon, the picture he'd hidden away in the side drawer was back on his desk--exactly where it belonged. 

*******************************************************************************************

Harry smiled as he walked out of the main building, thinking about Mr. Horan. This place might actually be worth living in, Harry thought, if there were people here as nice as him. At least there was somebody around who understood him--somebody he could talk to if things got rough. And he knew that Mr. Horan would push him academically, as well. He needed that from time to time--someone to kick his ass and remind him what was at stake when he got a little lazy with his classwork. He wasn't as smart as his dad, he didn't think, but he was smart enough to do something important with his life. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. Hell, none of his friends back home ever asked him about his grades, so his four point went mostly unnoticed by everyone--well, except for Mark. He was pre-med at NYU, so he knew a thing or two about grades and the importance of studying. Harry took a deep breath and kept walking. He missed Mark--but there was not really anything he could do about that. They'd texted a few times since he'd been in Doncaster, but not enough to give Harry any hope that some magical long-distance whatever would be possible. He shrugged at himself and continued down the path toward the athletic field house and soccer pitch--football--Harry reminded himself. It's football now...again...whatever. At least he would still get to be involved with the game. He really did love it--even if his gangly frame let him down. He honestly understood more about football than anyone else he knew-but it didn't matter one bit on the field. At least he'd be able to watch some games--and, just maybe, a few hot guys in the process. 

With those thoughts running through his head, he got his first good look at the varsity team. He watched from the sidelines as the coaches ran them through drills. They were good. Much better than his old team, not to mention himself. He leaned back in the cool, perfect grass and admired their footwork and skill. When there was a break in the action, Harry dusted himself off and walked over to the two coaches.

"Tryouts are next week, kid." Coach Simon said, hardly paying Harry any mind. "Come back next Tuesday."

"Yeah...uh...no......I mean....I'm Harry Styles. Mr. Horan sent me out here to find out about the Football Trainer elective?"

Coach Simon looked up, taking notice of Harry for the first time. Harry felt a bit awkward as the coach took stock of him.

"What experience do you have? And what year did you say you were again?"

"Uh...I didn't. I'm a tenth year...and I don't have any experience. But I'm a really fast learner. My dad's an orthopedist--and I'm sure he'll help me get up to speed on whatever you'll need from me." 

"You think so? Well, alright then. I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I? Listen....can you wait for a few more minutes? Practice is almost over and coach Paul can show you around the training room then. Get you acquainted with all the supplies and such. You really think your dad can help you out? Cause coach Paul and I don't have a lot of time to teach you much."

"Yeah...I'll be good. I can handle it. If it's OK with you, I'd like to watch the end of practice, though. Get to know the routine."

"Sure, kid. Whatever. Just stay out of the way?"

"I know my way around the pitch, sir. I won't be a bother."

"Yeah?" Coach Simon said, giving Harry a second run down, "We'll just see about that."

"Give the kid a break, huh?," Coach Paul interrupted, "He can't do any worse than that kid we had last season. What a disaster he was."

"I guess not. Alright kid...off you go...we'll be done in a few."

Harry made a mental note to ask about the previous trainer at some point in the near future. He made his way back over to his previous patch of grass and went back to his original thoughts. Not only were they good, he noticed, but holy fucking shit was number seventeen hot. Bleeding Christ, Harry thought....it's only the first day....calm the fuck down. But as Harry watched the guy move the ball around the cones, he had to mentally stop himself from fantasizing. Weren't all English soccer players like amazingly straight anyway? Probably. At least he'd have something to look at this year--if nothing else. Especially if he'd have to date girls for a while. If he was going to do that, he'd definitely need spank bank material--and god almighty if number seventeen wasn't exactly right for the job. 

"Harry.....that's your name, right?" Coach Paul called out.

"Uh...yeah....Harry Styles."

"Well....come on, then....we've got work to do, lad. Stop daydreaming and haul your ass up to the training room."

"On my way, sir."

"And kill the sir, kid. Coach is fine."

Harry nodded and jogged up to the field house with his new team. 

"Huh...not even breathing hard, are you kid? You work out, then?" 

"Sure. Run every morning."

"Really? Down for breakfast or the real thing?"

"I get in three or four."

"Impressive. You know we have a track team, too. If you're no good on the pitch, that is. We make the football team run just to keep them in shape. Our own personal torture technique, if you will. And we also have a cross country team--but you won't be able to do that if you're the team trainer....no time."

"I understand," Harry answered, taking in the assistant coach. "And I might. I like to run."

"How are your grades then? We can't have you failing and missing games. We travel, too."

"You won't have to worry about that with me, sir...I mean Coach. Mr. Horan enrolled me in year eleven advanced classes...and I promised him a four point, so."

"So, indeed. Well I hope you meant all that b.s. you told Coach Simon. You'll have to learn quickly. And this group can be something else. You'll see what I mean."

"I look forward to it." Harry quipped back quickly.

Coach Paul turned and got his first good look at Harry. It wasn't often a kid surprised him, but Harry actually had potential. If he survived the first week, that is. 

"Just you remember you said that, kid. Now come on....I've got a lot to show you."

That night, Harry took the list of supplies and duties he wrote down during the time he spent with Coach Paul to his father and asked him to show him what he'd need to do. In no time, Harry learned how to wrap ankles, massage calves and work out shin splints. He also learned when to use heat as opposed to ice. His dad said that should get him started, and over the next ten nights he spent time learning everything there was to know about being the best football trainer ever. His dad really was amazing. He was also patient and understanding with Harry--and Harry knew he didn't tell him he loved him enough these days. His mom, either. So he decided to give them a break. He had been a total shit since the move, and he knew it. But he missed his friends....he missed alcohol...and most of all, he missed bending his boyfriend over the couch. But in the shower that night, it wasn't Mark he thought about as he closed his eyes and smoothly worked his large hand over his cock. It was number seventeen. And it was bloody brilliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm? What do you think? Comments/suggestions welcomed :)


	3. Razors and Ice Buckets

The first two weeks of school were as uneventful as they were predictable. Harry had forgotten a few things while living in New York. The most important thing being that girls actually found him attractive. Back home, everyone knew he was into guys, so none of the girls even bothered to be anything more than friends. In Doncaster, however, he could basically take his pick. It unnerved him. He liked girls--in the kind of way he liked pancakes. They were fluffy and sweet and served a purpose--like friendship, or study partners--but nothing more. But if he didn't pick one, soon, the guys were going to start asking questions--and he wasn't exactly ready to explain himself. Things were different here, as he had suspected--and his instincts about the dating rituals here were dead on. Fuck his life. He wasn't used to hiding who he was--and he felt like a hypocrite. And the advice he gave Mr. Horan haunted him. He thought he could talk to the counselor, but he just wasn't ready to do that, either. Harry secretly hoped he'd find someone--anyone--who would accept him, and he was constantly on the look out, but so far, nothing. 

Football practice was the highlight of his afternoons--obviously. After seven hours of rigorous coursework and pretending to be sexually interested in girls, he needed a fucking break. So that afternoon he was in high spirits as he made his way to the training room to begin his before practice routine of wrapping ankles. He'd become quite good at it, and the players were starting to respect him. A few had even started talking to him--and Harry was relieved. The first two weeks he'd gotten mainly the silent treatment--and he knew it was just everyone feeling him out. If only, he thought. He was getting mighty tired of his right hand. And just as that thought cleared his mind, number 17 walked--for the first time--into the training room and stood, leaning up against the door frame--waiting for Harry to acknowledge him. 

"Tomlinson," Harry breathed out quickly--a little too quickly--Harry thought. But Number 17 didn't seem to catch his nervous tell. 

"Good Hands," Number 17 shot back, his eyes never leaving the grunt football trainer that taped ankles and stretched calves.

The nickname was supposed to refer to Harry's skills with athletic tape--but Harry secretly wished it meant something else--particularly something else having to do with Louis Tomlinson. To say Harry was crushing would be a major understatement. Obsessing, would be more like it. But Harry knew how to keep his business to himself. He was never overt in his tendencies, and he seriously doubted anyone knew what went on inside his head any time Louis was within fifty feet of him. It was really quite pathetic, Harry thought. But this was his life, now--and Louis had a very smart, very hot, very in-your-face girlfriend. She was like the queen bee of the school--and, if the rumor mill was reliable--and Harry had found that it usually was--a daddy's girl who didn't put out. Harry'd heard the other players--especially Liam and Stan--giving Louis a ton of shit about it. But Louis just shrugged it off--saying he respected her for not letting any of the assholes at the school into her pants. Nobody was buying it--and neither was Harry. He'd stalked Louis Tomlinson enough over the past two weeks to learn his tells--and he knew when he was lying. His eyes crinkled up and his lips pouted just slightly as he pressed them firmly together. Beautifully, Harry would have added in his head--if the team captain didn't happen to be standing in the training room in tight, black football shorts. 

"You need tape, then?" Harry asked immediately. 

"Dunno. Kinda twisted an ankle yesterday, I think. And Coach Paul said your dad was an doctor and was teaching you...so I thought you could maybe look at it....if you have time?"

"Course," Harry replied, trying not to sound over anxious. "On the table, then?"

Harry thought he saw Louis' facial expression change for a brief second, but Louis must have checked himself quickly, because in an instant it was gone. Pull it together, Harry...he thought to himself. You've got a job to do. Harry watched as Louis made his way over to the table and hopped up, leaving his left ankle hovering over the edge. He rubbed his hands together to warm them and took a silent breath to calm himself. Fuck. 

"Where does it hurt? My dad said foot strains are quite common in Football, but with proper taping, they could be kept to a minimum. I never see you in here before practice, so I assume you don't tape?"

"Nah...never had to. Always felt fine. Coach says the fifteen pounds I put on over summer break might be why my feet hurt--getting used to the extra weight or some shit." 

Harry smirked up at the beautiful boy on his table. 

"Fifteen pounds? How'd you manage that? Coach said Varsity players work out hard over the summer."

"Yeah...we do. Just putting on some man-weight, I guess." The look on his face changed--and this time Harry read it before Louis could disguise it again. He knew that look. He'd seen it on Mark enough times--but he must be out of his fucking mind. Like seriously. Maybe not having sex was starting to effect his brain--and was causing him to see shit that wasn't there. Harry seriously didn't have time for a mental breakdown--plus he had to pull an A in advanced Geometry. So he needed to stop letting his imagination get the better of him and get on with his job. Harry placed his hands around the top of Louis' ankle and tested it for flexibility. He stretched Louis' foot left, then right--back, then front. He felt no hitch or resistance--so if what his dad had taught him was true--and he was sure it was--the ankle was stable. He then slid his hands down and used his thumbs to rub over the top of the captain's foot--feeling for any bumps, ridges or swelling that wasn't supposed to be there--and found none of those, either. Harry then concentrated on Louis' arch. He switched the position of his hands so that his thumbs were underneath--applying slight pressure to the pads of Louis' feet--and worked his way from the toes back to the heel--and watched his patient's face for any grimace or look of annoyance. But what he saw wasn't annoyance--it was fascination. Louis was fascinated with him? What the fuck? 

"Do you feel any discomfort when I press down your foot?"

"A little bit, yeah. Right under the arch, maybe? I think I might have pulled it or something last practice."

"Yeah...you said. Well, I don't feel anything wrong--but I'm not a doctor or anything. My dad's teaching me, sure--but I'm not an expert."

"No...I know...but is there anything you can, like...do? For my arch?"

"I can tape you up--and add extra arch support. But I'd need to do it for both your feet--to keep you in balance, see?" Harry explained he extended Louis' other foot off the table and pressed on one arch, but not the other. "They'd need to be the same."

"Yeah...OK....How long does that take, then? I have to get out to the field before coach kills me...being Captain I don't get to be late."

"I know. It'll only take a few minutes. I'll have you ready to go before drills start...promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Styles." Louis retorted with a sideways grin. The one that made Harry loose his train of thought and forget he was actually a member of the human race. And there was that look again. Christ. Harry shook it off with a jerk of his curls and went back to the task at hand. 

"You know, you should probably shave your foot and ankle tonight, if you're going to tape every day, that is."

"Why's that?"

"Oh...you'll find out after practice when you rip the tape off," Harry answered with a lopsided grin of his own. God, what was he doing? He needed to stop--like right this instance. Flirting with the exceptionally straight team captain of the varsity football team was definitely a one-way ticket to getting his ass kicked. Louis didn't say anything after that, and Harry went to work and expertly taped the ankles before him--making sure to add extra arch support--exactly the way his father had taught him. When he was done, Louis held eye contact for a second too long, hopped down, and jogged out of the training room on his way to the pitch. Fuck he looked good when he jogged....his perfect ass bouncing just right.....fucking hell. Harry pulled himself together--grabbed the water coolers and loaded them on the golf cart--and drove them out to the pitch--where he could stalk in private. 

***********************************************************************************

Practice went exceptionally well--not one injury. That meant he had very little to do except sit and watch. And after two long hours--he had to admit he was a little bit bored. His classwork was actually more taxing than he'd expected, and it wasn't uncommon for Harry to put in two to three hours each night earning the four point his ego had promised. But it was Friday, so at least he'd have all weekend to get his work done--and maybe even get ahead. And squeeze in a date--he reminded himself halfheartedly. He thought he might call Rebecca and ask her out. She was older, sure, but she was also friends with Louis' girlfriend--and thus had the same reputation. And Harry definitely saw that as a plus. The last thing he needed was for some girl going around saying he wasn't into sex with his hot girlfriend. It could work, he'd tried to convince himself, with a girl like that. They could become actual friends, even. Sure. Fucking hell. 

Harry was still thinking about the joys of dating Rebecca when Louis grabbed his arm an practically threw him into the wall. 

"Listen, Styles," he spat out quickly, "Just go with it. OK? And don't freak out...I've done this lots of times. And for Christ sake...don't get hard."

And with that, Louis was gone--running back around the corner--to the rest of the team that Harry could hear making their way inside to shower and change. Confused, Harry paused long enough to watch the team all round the corner towards the training room instead of towards the locker room showers. What the fuck...Harry barely formed in his head, before the varsity boys grabbed him, shoved him into the training room, the last one having locked the door on his way in. 

"Well.....what do we have here? Our new little ankle taper looks scared," Liam--starting wing--spat out, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

"You think he's scared now? Just give him a second. I bet he pisses himself...or worse. Remember what happened last year?" Stan laughed out. "Disgusting, man."

"You got that right!" Liam replied. "Let's see how pretty little Styles does, then. He's the talk of the school, you know. The girls love the curls!" Liam reached out a hand to fluff Harry's locks. 

"Look," Harry started, "I"m not sure what you think..."

"Shut up, Styles....no time for your worthless banter!" Stan cried out. "Grab him, boys...you know the drill!"

Before Harry could even move, they were on him. Liam and another varsity player lifted him up and threw him on the training table as Stan taped his mouth shut. Before Harry could even blink, his ankles and chest were taped down, too--rendering him effectively motionless. He was scared to death--and probably would have pissed himself--if it hadn't been for what Louis had said to him right before the assault. He didn't know why--but a part of him trusted Louis. But that crazy fucker was in the room--watching his friends tape him down to a table! 

"Doctor Tomlinson!" Stan shouted. "Calling Doctor Tomlinson!"

Louis turned around with a bowl of hot water in one hand, and a razor in the other--and Harry quickly did the math. Fuck...now he knew exactly why Louis had warned him to just go with it and not to get hard. Louis sauntered over and slowly pushed the bowl between Harry's knees--securing it firmly in place. 

"Now keep still, young Styles. And don't spill the water, mate. I'm quite certain you don't want me to do this with a dry razor, hmmm?"

Harry shook his head no, as best he could--as he watched Louis push up the legs of his shorts and bunch them into his crotch. Don't get hard....don't get hard...Harry repeated to himself over and over in his head. But Louis Tomlinson had his hands on him. Fucking hell. 

"Very nice, mate. No...like seriously...you have thighs like a girl. Hot, actually." Louis teased as the other boys roared around him. 

"Get on with it, Doctor," Liam spit out sarcastically--like this wasn't the part he was looking forward to. And that sent another rush of adrenaline through Harry--the anxiety doubling back from before. 

"Patience, Doctor Payne. Patience. Don't want to rush and cut poor Styles here, now do we?"

Harry looked down in horror as Louis sprayed some shaving lotion in his hand and smoothed it over Harry's thighs--from the tops of his knees all the way up to where his shorts were jammed into his groin. Don't get hard. Don't get hard.....Harry continued to repeat--like it was the most important thing. But those three words were not going to be enough if Louis kept touching his thighs. No way in hell. Vagina, vagina, vagina....Harry repeated instead--working with great difficulty to picture one in his head, as Louis dipped the razor into the hot water and began shaving. Every so often he would clean the razor in the hot water and pound it on the side to remove Harry's hair from the sharp blade. And when Louis' hand grazed his nuts as he shaved further up....even vagina wasn't enough. Drippy Smelly Vagina. Drippy Smelly Vagina....In my mouth.....on my tongue...on my fucking tongue....Harry repeated to himself until Louis finished the job. 

"Hmmmm....would you look at that?" Stan's voice mused out. "He didn't chub up. Guess I was fucking wrong after all."

"Aren't you always?" Zayn called out from somewhere on the other side of the room. 

"Fuck off, Malik, " Stan replied, as he pulled the tape off Harry's mouth with one sharp rip. "I thought for sure he'd be the one to stiffen up on us...with those curls and all."

"Sorry to fucking disappoint," Harry had found his voice. "And if you don't mind, if you're done and all, could you fucking untape me?"

"Oh...not so fast, Styles, " Louis grinned out. "Boys?"

And before Harry could even realize what was happening, Liam and Stan were dumping what was left of the ice water coolers over the top of him. And with that, they left. Harry heard them as they unlocked the door, propped it open and made their way down the hall to the waiting showers. Hot showers, Harry thought. Man, could he use one of those right about now. He was fucking freezing. 

"You OK there, then?"

Harry thought he had been left alone. 

"God...what now?" he grumbled out. 

"Nah, mate. You're done." 

"Really? Then why am I still taped to this fucking table?"

One of the varsity players had remained behind, and Harry didn't know what to think about that. A part of him wanted to kick his fucking ass, but an even bigger part of him wanted up off the table. 

"Malik?" Harry questioned out, still pissed about not being able to move.

"Right. Here...let me help."

Harry didn't fully relax until Zayn had cut the tape and he was able to put his shorts to rights and stand up and look around. What a fucking mess. And he'd have to clean all of it up before he could go home. Without complaining, Harry walked over to the janitor's closet and took out the mop and bucket, and set to work. To his great surprise, Zayn hung around and helped him clean up. They worked in silence for a better part of an hour--mopping, cleaning, and running the wet towels through the dryer. As Harry folded the last one and put it in it's correct place, he leaned up against the counter top and took a deep breath. 

"So," Zayn started, "The guys wanted me to ask you to the party tonight. If you're up for it."

"No fucking thanks."

"Come on, Styles. It would go a long way if you showed up. Let them all know it's cool. Nothing personal, ya know?"

"Nothing personal? Are you fucking kidding me? Louis Tomlinson just shaved my legs! I'd say that's pretty fucking personal."

"No....Styles...It's not. Listen. It's an initiation thing...that's all it is. And if you go to the party tonight it won't happen again. The guys are assholes, but they're not total dicks. When you show up, it'd be like you telling them you understand how things work...and that it doesn't bother you. They'll be cool, man. I promise."

"Yeah?" Harry asked with questioning eyes. 

"Sure. So what's it gonna be, Styles? You gonna come and show 'em it's no big thing or are you going to freak out about it and make things worse?"

"When you put it like that...I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Not unless you want them to think your a little bitch, no. Not really. And I've got to hand it to ya, mate. You handled all that pretty well. Better than I did, that's for sure."

"Better than you did? They did this to you?"

"Of course. Initiation. Like I said."

"Right."

"So you're coming, right?"

"Sure. I'll have my dad drop me off. Can you text me the address then?"

"Oh my god, Styles. You're fucking hopeless. No. I won't text you the address. And no, you're dad can't drop you off. Fuck. I'll come pick you up. And tell your parents you're staying over at mine, alright? You can lie to your parents, right mate?"

"Of course I can. What the fuck?"

Zayn smirked at him and said he'd pick him up at seven, then made his way to the locker room for his own, overdue, shower. And for the first time in two weeks Harry thought he'd made an actual friend worth keeping. And if Zayn was telling the truth--and he was pretty sure he was--a party sounded like a right good idea. He could get fucked off his ass and forget all about his little initiation party pack. And that sounded fine to him. Mighty fucking fine.

*****************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...who's ready to go to a party, then?


	4. Pong & Dong

By the time Harry made it home, he was so hyped he could barely contain himself. After two weeks of the silent treatment, he was finally invited to a real party--the kind where the only studying that would get done would be him memorizing the contours of Louis Tomlinson's body. Up close--and with alcohol involved. He seriously doubted that the party'd be anything like the parties back home, but at least it was something. His mom and dad were happy to send him on his way, too. His mom had been asking him for over a week if he'd made any friends--questioning him with that overly concerned mother pout plastered across her face. His dad seemed less concerned--probably because he understood, on some level, Harry's charm and persuasive abilities. The force was strong with him--and his dad knew it as well as Harry himself. His mother forced him to eat something--and thankfully Zayn was right on time--before his mother started grilling him on "the plan." He wasn't exactly sure what the plan was, to be honest. And he didn't really care. So long as it involved liquor and a pressure free evening. So when he heard Zayn honk his horn at exactly 7:01, he practically ran out the door and threw himself into the waiting silver Audi parked on the curb. 

"So I take it you're ready to go then?" Zayn asked. 

"You have no fucking idea, mate. I haven't had a drink in like six weeks and I don't think I can wait another hour."

Zayn looked sharp in his black skinny jeans and a simple vintage Nirvana t-shirt. Harry had dressed similarly--in blue jeans and his own The Fray concert buy. Hey, just because he moved to America didn't mean he had to listen to crap american music. To be honest, he was beginning to outgrow the shirt, but he liked the way it clung to his chest and fit tightly around his arms. Over the past three months his body had begun to change. He'd grown like three inches and that had helped him drop most of the baby fat his mother loved to tease him about. That, combined with his running routine, had him right fit--if he did say so himself. Luckily, he didn't have to say so himself--the girls did enough of that for him. If only, he thought. But fuck it. He caught Zayn checking out his outfit and nodding in approval, and it pleased him to know that Zayn approved. He dressed the way he'd wanted to, without trying to please or impress anyone, and it felt great that Zayn accepted his choice of attire. Harry secretly smiled to himself and relaxed into his fine leather seat. 

"This car is brilliant, mate. Like the silver. Your parents have good taste."

"No they don't. I do. This baby's all mine, " Zayn crooned with an easy smile. 

"You've got to be kidding me. Are your parents like famous or something?"

"What? Wait. You don't know?"

"Know what?" Harry countered, genuinely confused. 

"That my dad...like....hired...your dad?"

"Your dad works for the Rovers, too? What does he do?"

"You really are fucking clueless, aren't you mate? Christ. And all this time I thought you were just ignoring me to be a shit. Seriously, Styles, what's your deal?" Zayn questioned as he took a sharp right.

"No deal. Just have no clue what you're even talking about. My dad and I don't talk about the Rovers. I'm a Galaxy fan. Always will be."

"You watch American soccer? No fucking way. That's it, Styles. You're coming to the first game of the season. I'll make you a Rover's fan. Promise."

"Sure, whatever you say...just don't be too disappointed when things don't turn out the way you planned," Harry laughed. 

"We'll see," Zayn countered as he pulled up in front of a gigantic house. Cars littered the street, but Zayn pulled into the driveway, hit the remote, and pulled smoothly into one of the open garage bays.

"I thought the party was at Stan's," Harry asked, confused.

"It is. But that little fucktard knows I won't come unless I can park in the garage. Door dings and puke on my paint job are not an option, mate."

"So, is he like rich or something?"

"Not him, especially. His father married some model-type with rich parents. So it's really his step-mom's house, his step-mom's money. Too bad she hates is ass. She and his dad are always off skiing or shopping or on a cruise or whatever. At least we have a place to party, though. So I guess it's all good," Zayn explained as he opened his door and began climbing out. 

"Definitely," Harry called after him, " uh...Zayn?"

"Yeah?" Zayn answered, leaning back into the car to look at Harry.

"Can I ask you something before we go inside? I don't want to sound like a stupid year ten here or anything, but I guess...I....uh..."

Zayn sat back in the driver's seat and closed the door. 

"Sure, Harry. What's up?"

"You called me Harry? I don't think anyone else has done that since I've been here."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. Now what's bothering you?"

"Will I be OK in here? You know, to be myself? To get right drunk and just have fun?"

"Course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, after this afternoon, I just wanted to be sure."

"Look, no one's going to bother you after the way you handled yourself today. Trust me. And yeah, you can get as wasted as you want--nobody'll say or think shit. Everyone else will be well on their way by now anyways, so we might have to play a little catch up. Well, almost everyone. Tomlinson never gets as smashed as everyone else--and I can't figure out why. I catch him putting water in his vodka glass sometimes. He likes to look the part--but doesn't play by all the rules."

"Well that's interesting. No worries about my substituting water for anything, mate. Trust me on that one."

Zayn quirked an eyebrow at him, sizing him up. 

"Is that right, ten?"

"Absolutely. I can definitely drink any of these fuckers straight under the table."

Zayn positively laughed at that, continuing to size up his new friend. 

"Well, that's good to know. Now I guess the only other real question is how good are you at tossing ping pong balls."

"Are you fucking kidding me? East coast private school dickheads might have invented beer pong, but New York prep students perfected that shit. So you wanna partner up and get some people fucked off their ass?"

"Oh, I think we can do that. But first, " Zayn supplied, opening his door once again and sliding out, "Tequila. You can handle some tequila?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Harry smirked as he climbed out of the car and followed Zayn inside, "I thought you'd never fucking ask."

 

**************************************************************************************

As mellow as Zayn Malik was at school and on the field, he was a fucking rock star off campus. And Harry felt like a rock star just standing next to him. Everyone greeted him and handed him drinks--there were fist bumps and low fives--as well as a few sloppy cheek kisses from some of the more scantily attired young ladies in attendance. He recognized most of them, but knew few. Once everyone noticed that he was with Zayn, the treatment was extended his way. To be honest, Harry didn't know if he liked it or not, and he was amused when he noticed that Louis was watching their entrance with something resembling annoyance. Harry filed that away to think about later--right now he really wanted Zayn to make good on that promise of Tequila. Zayn introduced him to most people, but not all--and Harry had to admit he was curious about the omissions. He'd have to ask about that later. Much later, he thought, as his new friend turned around with two shot glasses and half a bottle of Don Julio Anejo. Harry didn't know much about Tequila, but he knew this bottle was some high end shit. Less of a hangover, anyway, he thought to himself, as Zayn poured out the shots. Harry was just about to throw his down, when Zayn stopped his arm. 

"Not yet, Styles," Zayn teased, "the boys have one more surprise for you. Ladies?"

Before Harry could blink, two year twelves he recognized but didn't know walked over and dropped their dresses to the floor, and stood--awaiting directions--in front of the two of them. 

"On the table, ladies. Our young Mr. Styles has earned it."'

Without hesitation, the two brunettes laid down on the dining room table in nothing but their bras and panties. Harry reminded himself to look excited. Zayn walked over and licked a stripe up one of the girl's bellies and shook salt over the wet, and then placed a lime wedge in between the girl's teeth. And with a smirk, he extended the salt shaker and another lime wedge out to Harry, expecting him to do the same. Without hesitation, Harry followed suit. The half-naked girl giggled as Harry licked across her belly button and shook out the salt, and actually closed her eyes as she opened her mouth so that he could place the lime wedge between her teeth. And Harry wasn't exactly nervous or shy about it, either. It's not like he'd never done a body shot before--it was just that the person underneath him was usually a guy. But whatever. It was a party--and he really wanted that tequila shot. So with a shrug of his shoulder, he licked the salt off the girl beneath him, threw back the shot, and bit into the lime that the she held tight between her teeth. After he finished, he threw his head back and howled, high five'd his new friend, and yelled, "Again!" And after a second, he added, "With your permission, that is, my love." The crowd of people around him loved that, and the dutiful girl nodded her head in consent. Instead of standing for the second shot, Harry hopped up on the table and straddled the girl's thighs and went to work. Lick....salt....tequila...lick...lime...howl...high five. Body shots were fucking great, Harry thought to himself, as he stared down at the girl beneath him. She was laughing along with him--not bothered at all by the fact that Harry had climbed on top of her. He winked at her, shook his curls, and was just about to ask for another shot before he was interrupted.

"Hey Zayn...you wanna get young Styles off the table then, mate?" Louis practically yelled above the noise of the watching crowd, "He's a bit young for this type of behavior, don't you think?"

"Sure Cap'n. Whatever you say. Styles? Come on, then. If you stay up on that table any longer, people are going to start throwing dollars at you."

Harry grinned a wild and happy grin and hopped off the table. He extended his hand and helped the lady down, gave her a polite peck on the check and whispered something sweet into her ear, and followed Zayn back through the crowd. 

"So the legend begins," Zayn mumbled just loud enough for Harry to hear. 

"That was fucking brilliant!" Harry roared out. "Much better than shaving cream and ice water, I'll tell you that much!" 

"Yeah, well, Captain Tomlinson was not so amused," Zayn responded, his eyes shiny from the shots. "Come on Styles! We've got some catching up to do!"

Harry knew he'd never remember the names of all the people he met, but that was alright. The two shots of quality tequila had done their work, and Harry was feeling the pleasant buzz seep through his body. And even though he hadn't had a drink in a month and a half, he was happy to discover that his tolerance was still up to par. He could have done a few more shots of tequila and been right enough to conquer the beer pong game that was going on in the den. But the guys that were playing right now sucked--and after a quick peek inside, Zayn just shrugged in obvious agreement.

"Later then," He muttered out. "Not much fun right now. Too early. We'll find our way back. You just find a way to stay on your feet, OK ten?"

"You really need to stop worrying about me. I wasn't fucking around earlier when I said I can handle my liquor."

Zayn just laughed at him and lead him back through the house to a spacious room filled wall to wall with classic stand-up arcade games. Harry'd heard of--and participated in--his fair share of drinking games, but this? This was some next level shit, and he was way out of his league. Liam and Stan were playing Ms. Pac-Man--and every time you died, you did a shot. Fucking brilliant. Louis and his girlfriend were playing Galaga by the same rules--but only sips of beer was required upon death. Not so fucking brilliant, but whatever. The room was littered with twenty or so others playing their own versions of the same game, and Harry was impressed. Zayn seemed to sense it, too.

"Like what you see?" Zayn prompted with a smugness that suited him. 

"Are you kidding me? This is brilliant. Why didn't I ever think of it? There are arcades all over the place in New York. It would have been epic." 

"Well, I don't know about epic, but what you see here," Zayn described with his hands extended to the far corners of the room, "is what we Doncaster locals call JGS." 

"JGS?" Harry quizzed. 

"Just getting started, mate. Just getting started." 

"Fuck. This town might actually be worth living in after all. Hell, if I'd have known the parties were going to be this nice I would have taped myself to the training table the first day of practice and told Tomlinson to get on with it." 

"What are you two on about, then?" Louis asked, clearly having heard Harry's last remark. 

"Nothing, Tomlinson. Just young Styles here saying how appreciative he is that you finally shaved his legs." 

"Is that so, ten? We could make that a weekly occurrence, if you want?" Louis supplied. 

"Don't think so," Zayn cut in, "you'd like it too much." 

"Fuck off, Zayn," Louis quipped back easily, "We both know the score on that one." 

"Whatever," Zayn answered, dismissing Louis' glare. "Just let us know when you're ready to get serious on the table later. Styles here is something of a beer-pong prodigy, if he does say so himself. And he did." 

Zayn and Louis both laughed out loud and sized Harry up. 

"Is that so? Hmmm...well...we might just have to up the stakes tonight then. What do you say to that, Malik?" 

"Oh....you know me. I'm always game. But we wouldn't want tenner here participating in anything tawdry, now would we? Not with his sparkling reputation and all. Wouldn't want to do anything to tarnish his chances with the ladies present this evening, now would we?" 

Louis turned and gave Harry an inspecting look--like he was trying to read his mind. 

"Yeah...guess not. But my guess is that tonight he just wants to hang with the guys. Am I right, Styles?" 

"Uh....dunno. Guess I have to see what opportunities present themselves, mate," Harry answered coolly--not breaking eye contact with the fantasy standing before him. But he was an expert at playing it cool. His game was strong, even if no one here knew exactly what his game was. 

"Whatever, Styles," Zayn interrupted, "Pong first....whatever later, alright?" 

"Sure," Harry shrugged easily. "But first....how about you go find that bottle of Anejo and we get on one of these games I don't know shit about and....how did you put it...GFS?" 

"You want the girls, too? Or just the bottle?" 

"Just the bottle for now....fewer...uh...distractions." 

"Right," Zayn smirked out, "I guess I'll be right back. I'll leave you in Louis' capable hands, then." 

Harry caught a quick exchange between the two but couldn't decipher it--and quickly decided to forget it. Probably wasn't any of his business anyway. 

"So, foosball?" Louis asked politely. 

"Sure. I hope you're better at losing than you are at shaving, though. You missed a couple spots. I was actually quite disappointed, mate." 

"Whatever," Louis eye-rolled. "Get you ass over here and prepare for a beating." 

Harry flashed his brilliant smile and walked over to the foosball table with the sole purpose of wasting time until Zayn came back with that bottle of tequila. If he was going to hang out with Louis Tomlinson tonight-- and restrain himself from shoving his tongue down his throat-- he was going to fucking need it. 

*************************************************************************************

By the time Zayn made it back with the bottle of Anejo, Harry needed a shot. He lost three straight foosball games because he couldn't fucking concentrate. His mind was full of Louis, Louis and Louis. He was pretty sure Louis had caught him licking his lips a few times, too, but come on. Harry wanted Louis--and his tequila infused brain wandered as he watched the team captain's hands quickly work the wooden knobs and yell out as he forcefully shot the little foosball into Harry's goal. It was quite a sight--and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Louis' perfect girlfriend wrapped her arms around his waist, whispered something into his ear--and pulled him out of the room. Louis just shrugged at him, pursed his lips together in a pout--and allowed it. 

"You alright there ten?" Zayn questioned--pulling Harry out of his daze.

"Yeah...why?" Harry recovered quickly. 

"Uhm...no reason? You look like somebody just stole your girl," Zayn teased, "Or something."

"Fuck off. You bring the tequila?"

"Of course. It's a party starter," Zayn replied--shaking said bottle over his head with a shit-eating grin. "What game you want to play, then? Donkey Kong's free."

"Hey, I know that one!" Harry shouted a little too loud. "Let's do this shit!"

Harry was uncomfortable for the first time tonight. Zayn had seen him. Actually fucking seen through his perfect facade--and he didn't know what to do about that. At least his new friend didn't seem bothered by it. That was something, right? Pull it together, Styles, Harry thought in his head. Go play some Donkey Kong....go drink some Tequila. And for the love of god, pick out a girl to at least snog. Harry was pretty sure the brunette from earlier tonight would oblige--and at least she was pretty and had clean breath. I mean, if Zayn had noticed, how long would it be before everyone else did, too? 

"Relax." Zayn offered, leaning up against the Donkey Kong game as Harry selected two players. "Just chill, OK? Whatever's bothering you...just forget it."

Harry didn't realize he was shaking--but when he looked down at his hand on the game buttons--he had to remove them and lay them flat against his thighs. 

"Look," Zayn continued, "I didn't mean to shake you up or anything. Especially not tonight. You're supposed to have a good time getting wasted and meeting people."

Fuck it, Harry thought to himself. If he didn't have at least one person who knew who he was he was going to fucking go crazy. So he decided to take a chance.

"How long have you known?" Harry asked, making eye contact with his new friend for the first time since they walked over to the game.

"Well, mate, you've had your eyes glued to Tomlinson's arse since you got here, so. But I thought I was wrong after the body shots. Thought you might be into girls as well. Look, we don't have to get into this right now--or ever--if you don't want to. I just want you to know that I'm cool either way. It won't change how or what I think about you, ten. And I wouldn't have hung around and helped you clean up if I didn't want us to be friends. Trust me...I don't clean up anything just for the hell of it." 

Harry took a deep breath and fixed his curls. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? 

"And what about you, then?"

"Oh, let's just say I keep all my options open, mate." Zayn winked in reply. "Now let's get fucking fucked off our asses and go play some pong."

"I can do that," Harry answered--genuinely smiling for the first time since he arrived in Doncaster. "I can definitely do that."

*******************************************************************************************

"Let the games begin!" Liam shouted, standing on a small side table in the trashed out den. 

Harry watched in awe as just about everyone left in the house crowded into the medium size room to watch. After an hour and a half of Donkey Kong--he was sufficiently intoxicated. And he didn't give a fuck--and he wasn't worried, either. He'd played a lot more messed up than he was right now, and he was still supremely confident in his pong throwing abilities. And by the looks of it, he'd have to carry his partner, too. Zayn wasn't about to pass out or anything, but he was unsteady on his feet. Harry threw his arm around his partner's shoulder and winked at him.

"Just hit the cup in the middle...always works for me." 

"What are you on about Styles? I'm fucking right as rain. You just better be able to back up all that shit talking you were doing earlier. I think Tomlinson has big plans for the main event this evening," Zayn not quite slurred out. Harry was hopeful that he'd sober up just enough to help out. 

"In this corner," Liam continued, "the challengers! Zayn Malik and newcommer Harry Styles!" The crowd cheered around them, and Harry was enjoying the hype. 

"And in this corner, reigning champions supreme....Captain Tomlinson and his lovely assistant Stan Lucas! Tomlinson and Lucas everybody!" The crowd cheered even louder.

"Reigning champions supreme?" Harry whispered into Zayn's ear, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." 

"Nope. Liam's really not kidding. They've never been beat--at least not by anyone around here." 

"Well, let's take 'em down then."

Zayn smirked up at Harry and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"You ready to put your pretty little ass where your mouth is?"

"Always," Harry offered up in wide-eyed wonderment.

"So Louis," Zayn called out, shoving Liam off his pedestal and climbing up himself, "Name your stakes! That's right....anything at all. We'll play for whatever you came come up with, mate. Just make sure you don't bitch out when you lose!"

The crowd cheered loudly, lifting their cups in the air...but quickly silenced themselves to hear Louis' reply.

"Really? Bitch, huh? Do you kiss your boyfriend with that mouth, Malik?" Ooooooh's echoed through the crowd. "And what about your partner, there. So what's it gonna be, Styles? Are you seriously ready to suffer the consequences of your partner's ego?"

"I'm the one who told him to do it, Captain. So get on with it--if you've got the nuts, that is." More oooooooh's from the stunned crowed--they were clearly not used to anyone throwing shade at their champions--much less a year ten.

"Alright Styles, Malik. Let's get this party started. Losers--and you are losers--have to tag every single wall in the house--completely starkers--singing Mary Had a Little Penis the whole way through. How's that sound?" 

"Sounds like some shit I did back in year five, to be honest, mate....but whatever....I guess you really want to show me your dick, then. And who am I to get in the way of something you clearly want so badly," Harry fired back as the crowd chanted and hooped around him. 

"Set that shit up!" Liam yelled out--once again on the pedestal vacated by Zayn--who, thankfully, looked a little more sober. And within a few minutes, the table was set up and both teams were on their sides, ready to begin. 

"Shirts and skins! Shirts and skins!" The girls chanted out--getting louder with every round. "Shirts and skins!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down, ladies," Stan shouted over their high pitched voices. "Come on then, lads...let's give 'em what they came here for!" 

Harry looked over at Zayn, confused. But Zayn just shrugged and removed his sleek black t-shirt--handed it to a cute blonde who gave him a very wet, very sloppy good luck kiss in return--and walked back to the table, nodding at Harry to let him know it was his turn. With a confident smirk, Harry slowly peeled his own shirt up and off his body--allowing everyone to get a good look--before walking over to Tomlinson and holding it out to him--in a move so bold not one person in the room had even considered it a possibility. Louis grabbed the shirt, pretended to wipe his ass with it, and tossed it in the corner of the room. 

"What? No good luck kiss? Harry whispered in Louis' ear--so low that only he could possibly have heard. The reaction he was getting out of Louis Tomlinson was fucking priceless. The shirt thing had him right rattled--and Harry thought he'd never looked more beautiful. 

"Fuck off," he whispered back. "Now get your ass back over to your side and prepare to take the rest of that shit you consider an outfit off."

"Yes, Captain," Harry replied out loud as he gave a two finger salute and made his way back over to his waiting partner. 

"I sure hope you know what you're doing, kid." Zayn replied, "Cause I really don't want my dick all over social media tomorrow...do you?"

"Don't give a fuck about that, actually," Harry replied--the grin never leaving his face. "Just put the ball in the hole, Malik."

"And now for the rules! Listen up Ladies and Gents! Elbow rule is in effect. Wrists can be over the edge, but not the elbow. We play six cups here, folks. Not ten. We're not alcoholics or anything quite yet, right?" Liam called out and the crowd cheered in agreement. "And finally....the beverage of choice for this evening's festivities.....drum roll please..... Anejo tequilla! Provided so nicely and so very thoughtfully for us for tonight by none other than Stan's hot as fuck step-monster!" Bedlam. 

Harry began calming himself with sure, even breaths--and blocking out the noise around him. Something he learned in Tai Chi. His mother made the whole family take self defense classes when they moved to New York, but Harry was the only one who still practiced. Soon, he was in his own world--everything around him moving just a little bit slower. He loved the feeling. It made him feel invincible. 

"Alright," Liam yelled out. "Challengers go first. Good luck, boys! And keep your ball on the table and the liquor off your chin....or house rules state......"

"You Drink That Shit Again!" The crowd roared out--clearly knowing the cue. God Harry loved this fucking place. 

Zayn smiled over at him, letting him know he should go first. Harry looked across the table at the six cups lined up in the classic 1, 2, 3 triangle. The first cup was closest to him, and the row of three were almost at the edge of the table. Harry knew from experience that the back corner cups were the hardest to hit--hell, it usually took him two or three tosses to sink one of those--but he wasn't worried. It usually took everyone else five or six. Harry grasped the small white ball in his hand, blew the team captain a kiss, and hit the left corner with a high arch and barely a splash. The crowd silenced themselves in awe--staring at Harry for a few seconds, before exploding. 

"Drink that shit, Captain!" Zayn called out behind Harry. "And like Liam said, don't forget to wipe that chin, mate." 

Louis laughed, slammed the cup, and readied for his turn. Without any hesitation whatsoever, Louis gave the ball a little kiss and returned Harry's shot with a wink. Left corner splash. Fuck, Harry thought....Tomlinson was good--really good. Harry leaned over the table--grabbed the cup's edge furthest away from him with his teeth, bent over his knees, and took the shot. He flung his head back when he stood up--sending the empty cup flying backwards somewhere in the room--and held eye contact with Louis. 

"Game on!" Harry called out--making sure Louis was watching as he shook out his curls. 

Zayn stepped up, then--and took the easy one in the front. The ball barely made it in, but it did. With less hooplah, Stan slammed the shot and took out Harry and Zayn's first cup in return. Zayn swallowed down the tequila and looked to Harry. 

"Four on four, mate. What's your plan?'

"To get Louis Tomlinson drunk and naked at the same motherfucking time...what else?" Harry replied as he took out a row two cup. Louis once again slammed the cup back and effortlessly returned the favor. Harry grabbed the cup of tequila--leaving the ball inside. He looked down into the cup, then up at Louis. Back down into the cup--and then up at Louis. When he was sure he had Lou's undivided attention, he swallowed the tequila while catching the slick white ball between his teeth. Then he removed it, gave it a kiss, bounced it on the table and pitched it over to Zayn. All four players missed their next round shots--but Zayn and Stan both hit in succession after that. 

"Two on two, Lou," Stan nervously reminded his partner. "Harry's good, mate. And I'm wasted. I'm relying on you here to keep my dick off Instagram. You think you can do that for me?"

"Yeah...no problem. Just playing with this little twat. And Malik's fucked off his ass--I'd be surprised if he can even see the cups right now."

"Well, I know how he feels. Just get on with it." Stan finished--winking at his blonde reward that was waiting patiently by the door in a much-too-tight mini. 

Harry and Louis both hit their next shots--making it one on one. But Zayn missed. If Stan hit, they'd win. The crowd inched impossibly closer to the table and started a low chant. 

"Stan the man....Stan the man....Stan the man....." The chant must have been magical, because Harry swore Stan closed his eyes before the ball ever left his hand. Splash! 

The crowd erupted. Everyone was jumping up and down, spilling beer and god knows what else all over the den furniture. And it only took about thirty seconds for a new chant to start.

"Take that shit off! Take that shit off! Take that shit off!"

"Well, Malik," Harry supplied, "A right fine mess you got me into, mate."

"I reckon so," Zayn replied with an easy smirk. "So...you ready to do this, then?"

"Oh absolutely. But I'm not worried about that little dick song, though," Harry flashed with a winning smile.

"Me either, dude. Me either. So off with it, ten. Let's give these animals a show. I know Tomlinson's ready," Zayn explained, nodding in Louis' direction. 

"Whenever you're ready there, boys," Louis called out. 

"You might want to cover your eyes then, Captain," Harry called out, "Cause I'm not sure you're ready for the after party." 

And with that, both he and Zayn dropped trow, high fived each other--and sauntered through the house--touching every single wall, per the rules--and singing--at the top of their lungs--

Mary sucked a big huge cock....big huge cock...big huge cock...  
Mary sucked a big huge cock...  
Then wedged it in her twat!

Boys will be boys. The only two people in the entire house who didn't get the joke were Louis' girlfriend and her best friend Rebecca. They were so unnerved, in fact--they left immediately after. And nobody was even a little bit sad about that--least of all Louis Tomlinson himself.

*******************************************************************************************************

Two hours later, the house was basically empty except for Stan, Louis, Zayn and Harry. Everyone else had either left or found their way upstairs for further adventures--and had surely passed out by now. 

"I've got to hand it to ya, kid," Stan said--blitzed out of his mind and sprawled out on his bedroom carpet. "I've never seen anyone get Louis to drink like that. Good on you." 

"Oh, I don't know if I had much to do with that....I think he actually enjoyed being challenged. Gave him something to think about other than his girlfriend for a change."

"Exactly. And you and Zayn ran her ass off, too. I should buy you two a fucking present or something."

"How bout you just never tape me to a table again? That'd be present enough." 

"Deal."

"Would you look at these two?" Stan said, motioning sloppily to Zayn and Louis--who were effectively passed out on Stan's futon. "I never thought me and a year ten would be the last men standing. You're alright, Harry." 

"You called me Harry. You actually fucking called me by my name." Harry laughed out--nearing his own oblivion.

"Yeah...just don't tell anybody." Stan muttered out slowly and quietly. And a few seconds later he was cold asleep without a care in the world. 

"Told ya I could out drink all these motherfuckers," Harry slurred out loud to no one--and finally let the alcohol take over and render him useless. Harry had just enough brainpower left to grab the blanket off the corner of the futon and curl himself up a few feet away from his new friends. 

"Night Lou," Harry mumbled out quietly before his mind sank deep and went blissfully blank. 

**************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the party? Want an invite next time? :)


	5. Omelets, Accords & Batman

Harry woke up. Sort of. If you could call his present state being awake. He was pretty sure he was dead, actually. He fished his phone out of his pocket and squinted at the time. 8:45. Harry stood up and took a look around. Zayn and Stan were still passed out cold, but Louis was gone. Harry wouldn’t have given it another thought if he didn’t hear noises from somewhere in the house. Slowly, Harry uncurled himself and peeled himself up and off the floor—and made his way downstairs. It only took a few minutes for Harry to realize the noises were coming from the kitchen. 

“Fuck!” Harry heard--and if he’d been any less hung over, he would have run. Instead, he walked a little bit faster just in case someone had hurt themselves. 

“Louis? You alright there, mate?” Harry seriously inquired--sizing up the sight before him. 

“No. I don’t even know what I’m doing, to be honest. I thought I’d try and make some eggs? I mean, how hard could it possibly be to scramble something?” 

Harry laughed out loud, leaned up against the counter, and took Louis in. He looked about as bad as he’d ever seen him—his hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled and stained. Harry wished he was the one responsible for his disheveled appearance—he could think of more than a few ways to mess up Louis’ usually perfect quiff. 

“You need some help? I’m handy in the kitchen.” 

“Of course you are,” Louis lazily supplied, clearly out of his element. “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Lots of things, actually,” Harry laughed, “but eggs, I can handle.” 

Harry worked his way over to Louis and took the whisk out of his hand, gathered the eggs that had rolled every which way on the counter, and began cracking them one-handed into the bowl Louis had picked out. 

“What can I say? I’m good with my hands,” Harry mischievously quipped as he noticed the uneasy look on Louis’ face. 

“Really? So what else can you do with them?” 

Harry hesitated for a split second, then went right back to whisking. This he wasn’t expecting. Harry calmed himself and slid between Louis and the counter on his way to the fridge, sliding his hip across his team captain’s waist as he did so. He opened the fridge, calmly took out cheese and a good tomato, stood up and allowed himself to make eye contact. He was usually an excellent flirt—but this felt different—real, somehow. 

“Well, I can make a decent omelet, for one thing.” 

Fucking lame, Harry thought to himself—but he’d never been in this situation before. He’d never actually flirted with anyone other than Mark—with the intention of it going anywhere, that is. And he knew Mark was into guys long before he attempted his first move. But he was far from unsure or awkward anymore. 

“So that’s it? That’s all you can make?” Louis singsonged, pointing to the bowl and quirking an eyebrow. 

“No. I can cook most anything. My family says my tacos are the best thing in the world. You should come over to mine on Friday—it’s taco night,” Harry continued, as he elegantly diced the tomatoes and added them into the egg and cheese mixture. “If you want to, I mean.” 

“Sounds great, actually—but I’ll have to check with my mom first and make sure she doesn’t need me to watch my sisters.” 

“Yeah? How many sisters do you have?” Harry asked as he poured the mixture into the small omelet pan he’d placed on medium heat. 

“Four. All younger. And they’re quite a handful. Sometimes my mom needs a break, so I give up my weekend to help her out.” 

“That’s cool. I’d love to see Captain Tomlinson with bows in his hair and playing dress up,” Harry teased, watching his omelet firm up. 

“Would you now?” Louis asked—eyes wide in anticipation. Harry could tell he was nervous—and it was cute as hell. 

“Yeah,” Harry added, flipping one side of the omelet up, then over, “Absolutely. Plates, please?” Harry pointed up to the cabinet and couldn’t help but notice the way Louis stared at his extended hand like he was trying to figure something out. Harry would give every dollar he’d ever seen to know what was going on in his head right now. 

“Huh? Oh. Plates. Right.” Louis almost tripped over himself getting the plates out and onto the kitchen bar. 

“And sit. Let me make mine, and we’ll eat together." 

Louis just nodded at him, and Harry could feel Louis’ eyes on him as he plated the finished omelet and poured the next. God he loved the way it felt—but he still didn’t know what Louis was thinking—or why he was so obviously flirting with him. 

“Louis? Can you grab some glasses and pour us some OJ? I saw some in the fridge and it looks freshly squeezed. It should feel good going down.” Harry tested—waiting to see what reaction he’d get. He definitely wanted to return serve—even if he wasn’t sure if Louis even knew exactly what he was doing—or just going on instinct. He suspected the later—but it was still absolutely brilliant. 

“Yeah? Ok.” Louis stammered out, getting back up to complete the request. 

Harry plated the second omelet, took a seat and enjoyed the opportunity of watching Louis reach up for glasses and pour out the juice. His hands were shaking slightly and Harry found it charming as hell. Louis eventually made his way over and sat next to Harry at the breakfast bar and nervously picked up his fork. 

“Louis?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“So if you aren’t watching your sisters on Friday—do you want to come over for tacos, then?” 

“Yes. I mean, sure. Yes…..shit,” Louis said as he dropped his fork into his lap. Without thinking, Harry reached over to help grab the fork, but Louis grabbed his wrist before he could reach the utensil. The force of it snapped Harry out of his flirtatious haze—and he felt the atmosphere change around him in an instant. Louis was positively staring at him—his wide blue eyes filled with confusion and a hint of anger. 

“Louis?” Harry questioned quietly, not breaking eye contact. And he watched as the confusion and anger in Louis’ eyes drained away and replaced itself with something entirely different. Harry knew the look very, very well-- but he knew he had to let Louis decide. On his own. So he waited, only hinting at his own need by not breaking eye contact. 

“That looks fucking excellent! I know you didn’t cook this Tomlinson—no offense mate, but you’re shit in the kitchen.” 

The spell broken, Louis snapped himself back as best he could, and watched as Zayn and Stan stumbled into the kitchen. 

“Nah, dickhead. Harry made it," Louis answered, finally retrieving the dropped fork and using it to fill his mouth with egg. 

“Did he now?” Zayn questioned, eyeing both of them curiously. Stan was seriously unawares, but Zayn didn’t miss a single thing. “How ‘bout you make us one then, ten?” 

“Sure. No problem. Give me a sec,” Harry snapped, quickly putting his fork down and rising from his stool. 

“You can eat first, Styles. They can wait—especially if you’re doing the cooking,” Louis warned as he shot a look over at Zayn. “Right guys?” 

“Of course,” Stan acquiesced, “Just don’t take forever. That smells amazing and I’m starving. And the cleaning people will be here at 10--and they've got some serious work to do.” 

“Fuck. That reminds me. You do that history thing yet, mate?” Zayn directed Stan, finally breaking eye contact with Louis. 

“Started it. Got a long way to go, though. It’s really fucking hard, dude.” 

“Can you show me what you’ve done so far? I haven’t even started. And if I don't get an A my dad will fucking kill me." 

“Yeah…it’s in my bag. I think I threw it in the study after school. If you want we can go to yours and figure it out. I don’t like being here when the cleaning crew comes, anyways. They always give me a hard time about respecting the house and shit.” 

“That sounds alright. I’ve just got to drop Styles back at his, first, and then…” 

“I’ll take him,” Louis interrupted. Harry and Zayn both ignored the slight blush on is cheeks as he said it. 

“That alright with you Styles? I’ve really gotta get a jump on this project,” Zayn questioned politely. But Harry could tell by his body language that he had other things on his mind. 

“Fine with me, actually,” Harry answered, making his way back to the stove after finishing his omelet. “You two want tomato and cheese, then?” 

Harry made two more omelets in happy silence—working quickly and efficiently— and wondering if he should tell Louis that his parent's weren't going to be home until Monday. 

*******************************************************

By the time Harry had cleared the dishes--there was no need to wash them, Stan had chided--it was almost ten, and Stan was anxious to vacate the premises. So Harry grabbed his stuff and walked outside to the driveway hoping the sunshine would help clear his head. He had serious doubts that it would--but it was worth a shot. Fuck. He'd never been this hungover in his life--and Stan's yelling wasn't helping his head at all. 

"Fuck, Malik...let's go already," he called up the stairs, clearly impatient with Zayn's lack of haste.

"Be right there. Give me another minute, would ya?"

"Whatever. I'll be in the car, then. I hate the cleaning boss. She's a right bitch, she is."

Zayn turned back and stared at Louis, who had gathered his own belongings and was sitting at Stan's desk, fidgeting with the edge of a spiral notebook Stan had left there. 

"Louis, are you sure about this, then? Have you thought of the consequences?"

"Fuck, Z. That's all I've ever thought about. I'm sick of thinking--sick to death of it. Why can't I have something that's just mine? Something that's just for me?"

"You know why," Zayn responded, giving his friend a pointed look. "You're playing with fire, here. Look--I get it. He's fucking adorable--I mean those curls? But come on--is he worth it? Do you have any idea what could happen?"

"Of course I do. But I'm done. And I'm telling my mom tonight. I mean look at him. He's free. You're free. Is it too much to ask to want to be the same?"

"Louis, I don't think that's a good idea, mate. And when Shelley finds out, well." 

"Fuck her. I'm so sick of her controlling my life. I can't do it anymore--I'm done."

"You weren't done two weeks ago."

"You're point?" Louis shot back, clearly not liking that Zayn had taken it there.

"My point is just slow down and think for a minute. He's a fifteen years old, for a start. And he might have the most beautiful eyes ever made by god, but is that really enough to just throw caution to the wind? Is it enough to risk disappointing your mom and your family--not to mention coach? Did you think about that, Louis? This kind of thing could divide the locker room, man--and I don't have to tell you where most of the guys stand. Or do I?"

Louis crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head in them--waiting for Zayn to finish. Zayn was right, of course--but so was he. 

"Look. You've just got another year and a half and then you're out of here. We all are. And then you can make different choices, Louis. But not right now. It's not worth it. He's not worth it. You don't even know him--hell, none of us do."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. Harry's great--even you can see that. And I feel different around him. I feel like I'm drowning every time he touches me--but I never want him to stop. Don't you see? I've spent my whole life learning to do what everyone else thinks I should. I'm team captain. My GPA is excellent considering what I deal with at home. Fuck, I even date her royal highness--and I'm so tired of her...of it....of all of it. Harry makes me feel like I have choices--for once in my life. Real possibilities. What's wrong with that?"

"Look," Zayn replied softly, "I just don't think you've thought this through. Just give it some time. I mean, what if you change your mind? Don't do something you can't take back, OK?" 

"But I want to do things I can't take back. Lots of things. I almost kissed him in the kitchen this morning, Zayn. And it was exciting and perfect--it was the way you're supposed to feel when you're about to kiss someone you like. I've never felt anything like that before. Don't you see? Don't you understand?"

"What I understand is that you need to drop that kid off, go home, and spend time with your sisters. And for god's sake don't tell your mom anything. Give it some time, OK? Just give it a month, Louis. One month. And after a month, if you still feel the same way, then I'll stand by you through all the bullshit that'll come because of it. Promise. Just give it four weeks, Louis. Please?"

"I'll try," Louis whispered out, finally raising his head. 

"You know I'm here for you, Louis. And you know I'm only looking out for you. I want to make sure you're taken care of--and I have a feeling your girlfriend is right pissed at you at the moment. Do you realize you didn't even walk her out last night?"

"So what. She was with Rebecca. I'm so sick of her constant bullshit. Whatever happens over the next four weeks, I can promise you this--I'm breaking up with that manipulative monster the minute an opportunity presents itself."

"You can't be serious, Louis. How can a guy you just barely met have your head this fucked up?" Zayn wondered, shaking his head. "You can't possibly be thinking straight. You're girlfriend might be a right bitch sometimes, but she's perfect for you. She won't sleep with you--and for the first time in the recorded history of mankind--that's a good thing. And nobody even questions it. Remember what happened with Sicily, Louis? Or do I need to remind you?"

"Fuck, Zayn. I get it. Fine. I'll give it a month. But Shelley's gone, regardless."

"Once you're head's back on straight, you'll reconsider. Now get Styles out of your fucking head, mate. Drop him off and go spend some time with your family."

"Yeah, alright. I can do that. I've waited my whole life to feel something like this--I guess I can wait another month."

Zayn just stared at him and seriously wondered if he'd even make it four days, much less four weeks. Hell, he might not make it back from Harry's after dropping him off. He put it at fifty-fifty, actually. But Zayn knew first hand what it was like to be anything but straight in Doncaster--and he didn't want to watch Louis go through that. He had it easy because his dad was a famous ex-footballer who owned half the Rovers and, by default, half the town. Louis wouldn't have that luxury. But he decided to leave it be; he'd spoken his peace and given the best advice he could, even though deep down he knew it was wrong. He just didn't want Louis to go through the pain of it. Fucking Harry Styles....Zayn thought as he and his best friend made their way back downstairs. Fucking Harry Styles. 

********************************************************************************************************

"Ready, Styles?" Louis asked without making eye contact. 

"Yeah. I can't wait to get in a hot shower and clean my mouth, mate. I think tequila actually grows shit on your tongue."

"The Honda's mine. Well, it's the family car," Louis stammered out, clearly uncomfortable. 

"I love my mom's Honda. I'm actually hoping she'll hand it down to me next year."

Louis didn't respond to that. Instead, he walked the short distance down the driveway to the waiting black Accord. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about the car, exactly. But it was hard not to feel inadequate as Zayn backed out passed them and took off with his middle finger raised through the sun roof with his usual good-bye salute. 

"He's something else." Harry let out as they watched the car disappear. "But in a good way, I think."

"Yeah...he's a good friend. Always looking out for me."

"I miss having people around me I can trust like that. No offense, but it's hard to see what someone's made of after only two weeks."

"Exactly." Louis responded, starting to relax. Maybe he could make it four weeks. 

"Although," Harry continued, licking his dry, chapped lips, "what you see in a person the first five minutes you meet someone is generally the purest look you're ever going to get. Nobody puts up walls in the first five minutes."

"Did you just make that up?" Louis smiled--making the mistake of looking over at Harry. Three weeks. Maybe he could make it three weeks. 

"Nah. Read it in Sociology last year. It's like the truest measure--the first impression you get. You're not judging them and they're not judging you."

"Interesting. So tell me, Styles...what was your first impression of me, then?"

"That you were great at soccer and had an amazing arse."

Two weeks, then, Louis thought to himself, blushing from ear to ear and the simple compliment. Maybe one? Zayn could fuck right off. 

"Is that so? Quite the pervert, aren't we?" Louis bounced back, enjoying the banter. He'd never felt so comfortable flirting in his life. 

"You have no idea." Harry lobbed back with a wide eyes and a shake of his curls. 

"Now hold on a minute, Styles. You're not thinking nasty thoughts when you're wrapping my ankles then, are you? Cause that'd be gross, mate. Conflict of interest is what that is."

"That's between me and my perverted, conflicted brain, now isn't it, Captain? I'll never tell." 

Louis just nodded as Harry gave directions for the next few minutes of the short trip. He liked the way Louis watched his hands as he pointed out the turns. He thought maybe he had a thing for his fingers or his hands--and he made a silent promise to himself that he'd figure out which. 

"This one," Harry pointed out. "With the green trim." 

Louis pulled into the driveway as Harry hit the garage remote on his key chain so he could go inside without having to unlock the front door. 

"Nobody's home, then?" Louis noticed. 

"Nope. My parent's took my sister on a college visit. They won't be back until Monday afternoon."

Louis stopped the Honda and put it in park, but didn't turn off the engine. Harry had to admit that he was secretly hoping he would--but he wasn't too disappointed. I mean, he was here, right? 

"Thanks for the ride," Harry smiled out, reaching for the door, "And find out about Friday, yeah? My tacos really are amazing." 

When Louis didn't reply, Harry just nodded, opened the door and started to unfold himself out of the small seat. He was just about to stand up when, for the second time that morning, Louis grabbed his wrist and stopped his movement. Hesitantly, Harry sat back down, closed the door--and like this morning at the breakfast bar, waited. Harry watched nervously as Louis stared at their hands for a minute, nodded, and released his wrist. 

"I don't know how to do this," Louis whispered--allowing Harry a look inside his heart. 

"It should be the easiest thing in the world, if it's right," Harry whispered back--afraid that if he raised his voice the spell would again be broken. 

"Is it? Right, I mean?" Louis questioned in the same hushed tone--his beautiful blue eyes gone grey with widening black. 

"I think it is," Harry sighed out--leaning just that much closer--but waiting, still waiting. 

"Yeah?" Louis questioned through shaky lips. 

"Yeah." Harry answered, as he cupped his hand around Louis' neck and gently rubbed his thumb across his cheek bone. "Definitely." 

Louis nodded his head, closed his eyes, and carefully--so, so carefully--placed his lips over Harry's. It was just a brush, really--probably the most chaste kiss ever given--but Harry thought it was perfect. And when Louis opened his eyes, it was Harry that initiated further contact--soft, intermittent pecks and brushes--coaxing brushes--aimed at getting Louis to open his mouth just a tiny bit so that Harry could have a small taste of him. And when Louis angled his head to the left and slightly parted his lips--allowing Harry to slot his lips between instead of over, well...it only took a few seconds before Harry lost restraint. With a gentle smile, Harry took control and slid his tongue over Louis' top lip--getting his taste. And when Louis opened just that tiny bit more Harry couldn't stop himself from sneaking his tongue inside--seeking out Louis' own. It was a cautious slide, at best--but it was enough for Harry to know he wanted to get his mouth on every part of this boy in the car with him. And if the tense, short breaths Louis was taking was any indication--Harry knew he'd have his day. But not this day, Harry reminded himself--as he pulled back gently--holding eye contact with the beautiful boy in front of him. 

"Louis?" Harry quietly questioned, after Louis leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "That was alright, yes?"

"It was more than alright. I've never...uh...kissed another guy before. But I need to be honest with you, Harry. I've got like zero experience with this--and I don't want to mess anything up."

"Lou?" Harry called again , tumbling Louis' fingers with his own, "That kiss was brilliant. And you don't have to worry. You can't mess anything up, I promise. I like you, Lou. Probably more than I've ever liked anyone. So why don't we just get to know each other a while, then....and see what happens? I wasn't kidding about the tacos, either. Come over on Friday. We'll eat and watch a movie and just, I don't know, spend time together." 

"I'd like that," Louis said, looking back up and Harry. "But I'm only coming over on one condition."

"Really?" Harry prompted, "And what might that be?"

"Kissing. For desert I want more kissing. And lots of it."

Harry untangled their fingers, squeezed Louis' hand, gathered his things and climbed out of the car. But before he closed the door, he leaned back inside.

"We'll see about that desert. I guess you'll just have to impress me, then--if you really want it. You've got a game on Thursday--and I don't make out with scrubs," Harry teased--effectively lightening the mood with his easy-going humor and brilliant smile.

"Scrub? You must be out of your mind, Styles. You better go buy a lifetime supply of lip-balm then."

Harry laughed as he closed the door and stood in the garage watching as Louis back out of his driveway and make his way down the street. And he was about to go grab that shower when his phone buzzed. Reluctantly, he fished it out of his pocket and checked the text. 

we need to talk. call me later. zayn

Interesting. Later. Much later. Right now Harry only needed three things. A clean mouth, a clean body--and with an empty house--a good, slow, uninterrupted wank. His sister should go on college trips more often, Harry thought, as he shut off his phone and made his way straight upstairs and into the shower. And as Harry worked his hand over his achingly hard cock, he may or may not have been thinking about what Louis' slightly parted lips would look like with his come on them. And as he shuttered out the best orgasm he'd had in a long, long time, he may or may not have called out Louis' name as his release arched all over his Batman shower curtain. Those silent joys would be forever kept in strict confidence between him and the caped-crusader himself. 

*****************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is about to get a whole lot hotter. Since Harry's 15 in the story, do I need to add any tags? TIA :O)


	6. Heartache and Discovery

Harry was taking a very easy test in advanced geometry Monday morning when the office aid walked in and handed a note to his teacher. 

"Harry Styles...you've been summoned to the dungeon," Mr. Carter motioned--holding the yellow hall slip out. "Off you go. You can finish when you get back."

"Done, Sir. Just didn't want to be the first one to turn it in," Harry laughed out. He knew Mr. Carter understood he was making a joke. He was, after all, the best math student in the class--maybe even the school--so he just shook his head and went back to pretending to watch the class. 

Harry stepped into the hallway and looked down at the pass. It was to Mr. Horan's. Why would he need to go there? He had his four point--and he'd managed to stay out of trouble. Confused, and a little annoyed, he made his way down to the counselor's office--found the door--and knocked. 

"Come in, Harry," Mr. Horan said as he motioned for Harry to take the same seat he had a few weeks ago. Harry was disappointed when he noticed his favorite framed picture was gone. Figures, Harry thought. This place was a trip. He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face--especially since he hadn't exactly been honest with himself these past few weeks, either. So he decided to cut Mr. Horan some slack. Harry sat and waited patiently for Mr. Horan to let him know why he was here, but all the man before him could seem to do was stare at him, so he broke the ice.

"How's it going, Mr. Horan?"

"Well, to be honest Harry, I've been better," the counselor started. "Look, Harry. I told the head I'd talk to you about this situation. He wanted to do it himself, but I told you I would be here if you needed anything, and I try to keep my word."

"Situation? What are you talking about. What situation? And it involves me?" Harry questioned, again confused. 

"I really don't even know how to tell you this, but I'm afraid you're on three day suspension, Harry. Effective immediately."

"Suspension? What for?" Harry asked, his voice edging louder. "I haven't done anything, Mr. Horan. I've been working my ass off. I have a four point for crying out loud. What could I possibly be suspended for?"

"Harry...uh...calm down, OK?"

"Calm down? There's got to be some kind of mistake, Mr. Horan. Whatever it is the head thinks I've done, he's wrong. You can ask anyone."

"Really? Ok then. Let's call Rebecca Townes, Shelley Delacroix and Louis Tomlinson down then, shall we Mr. Styles?"

"Mr. Horan, I have no idea what you're even talking about," Harry nearly shouted. "So you better tell me. And Louis? We're friends, Mr. Horan. He's team captain of the football team for crying out loud--I talk to him every day!"

"Obviously," Mr. Horan chided. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry returned--anger taking the place of annoyance. "Just tell me what I've done wrong!"

Mr. Horan said nothing. Instead, he pitched a folder over to Harry's side of the desk, leaned back in his chair, and waited. Harry looked at it, then back up at Mr. Horan, asking permission. When the counselor nodded at him, Harry picked up the rather thick file and opened the top--and immediately wanted to throw it across the room. Staring him in the face was a picture of his naked ass in all it's three by five, glossy print, glory. When he realized it wasn't the only picture, Harry picked up the stack and started flipping--and it only took a second for Harry to realize they were all taken Friday night at Stan's party. There were about twenty, and he was clearly the center of attention in all of them. There were a few pictures of him doing the body shot. A few of him doing shots and playing Donkey Kong. And more than a few of him shirtless and playing beer pong. But the last three were the best. Whoever took them did a mighty fine job of showing just how drunk he was--and exactly how naked. In the last picture, the taker got a clear shot of his dick. In shock, Harry set the pictures aside, and took a deep breath as he looked at what was left. Three "incident reports." They all said basically the same thing--he'd gotten extremely drunk at a small gathering of friends and paraded around naked. Rebecca and Shelley told of how offended, shocked and imposed upon they felt--and asked that immediate action be taken. Shelley even wrote, "when new students behave this way, it lowers our standards and damages the reputation of our student body and school." She was clearly the writer of the group, Harry thought, rolling his eyes. Rebecca's statement had so many spelling and grammatical errors in it that Harry could barely tolerate it--but it was a repeat of Shelley's, anyway, so he stopped half way through and flipped to the last one. As he read through the report, his heart sank. No, that wouldn't be accurate. His heart didn't sink--it dropped down into his toes. And by the time he finished it, his eyes were watery and his head ached. 

"Harry," Mr. Horan prodded, with a softened tone. Clearly he'd mistaken Harry's watery eyes for remorse. "I don't know what you were thinking, here. This kind of behavior can't go unpunished. It would send a very bad message to the rest of the students. And in front of ladies, Harry? I mean, seriously? Shelley and Rebecca were very upset about it. The headmaster said they were crying and thinking about filing a criminal complaint."

"What?" Harry yelled--rising from his chair. He'd reached his breaking point.

"Sit down, Harry. No one's filing any formal complaint. The headmaster talked to the girl's parent's, and they agreed that if the school took prompt and harsh action, they'd keep it a private matter." 

"Louis wrote this?" Harry asked Mr. Horan--who, for the first time, really looked at Harry. "Louis Tomlinson wrote this. You actually saw him?"

"Yes, Harry. Headmaster called me in to consult on it. I watched all three of them write out their reports and turn them in. I had to make sure they wrote them privately without talking to one another." 

"I understand." Harry nodded--his eyes hadn't cleared one bit. "So what happens now? I mean, do I go get my stuff? Do you? I've never been suspended before." 

Harry was running on auto-pilot. He was in complete shock, and he wanted to go home. Not home here, but back to New York. 

"Uh...you're dad's here. He has all of your books and supplies. I at least got the headmaster to agree that you should be able to work your assignments at home--seeing as how you're in advanced classes and all. Usually you'd take zero's for the work you miss while serving suspension, Harry."

"Sure. Thanks, I guess." Harry mumbled as he sunk back in his chair. His dad was going to kill him--but it didn't matter. His dad couldn't do anything to him to make him feel any worse. 

"Harry, look at me."

Reluctantly, Harry looked up and held eye contact with the counselor he liked and respected not fifteen minutes ago. 

"Tell me why you did this. Please. It looks like this was at a huge party--not some small get together like Shelley and Rebecca told the head. Is there more to the story, then?"

"Nope." Harry answered with a pop of the p, as he stood again, grabbed his jacket, and started to make his way down to the front office where his dad would be waiting. He'd never do what Louis did--to anyone--it wasn't in his DNA.

"See ya around Mr. Horan," Harry said as he turned around and pointed back to the counselor's desk, "I see I don't have to keep up my four point, now do I? And I guess you don't have to go through all the trouble of sending my assignments home, either. Guess we're even."

"Harry......Harry?......Harry.....wait..." Mr. Horan called out. But there was no way Harry was going to turn around and walk back in that office--like ever. Fuck Mr. Horan. Fuck this school......and most of all....fuck Louis Tomlinson.

*****************************************************************************

The first thing his father did when he saw him was give him a hug. The second thing he did was take his phone. Good thing he wouldn't be needing it anyway. Who would he even call? He didn't even know what the hell had happened, really. And as Harry laid on his bed, starring at his ceiling, he tried to figure it out. He really did. But he just couldn't put the pieces together--and that bothered him. It bothered him a lot. He wasn't that bad of a kisser, was he? Fuck. Maybe Louis wasn't ready for the kiss. Had he pushed him in to it? He didn't think so. It seemed like Louis wanted it, too. If he hadn't, then why'd he say he wanted more for desert? Clearly Harry was missing some information here. There were things going on that he didn't understand; information he didn't know. But what, though? And why hadn't Zayn given him a heads up? Fuck, Harry thought again. When did he become such a bad judge of character? And since when did he have a hard time making and keeping friends? Did he turn into an asshole all of the sudden? I mean, seriously. Harry looked over at his small clock. 8:45. He'd skipped dinner because he couldn't deal with the disappointed looks his mother would give him the whole time he ate. But now, he had to admit, he was hungry. He thought about going downstairs and finding some food--but it turned out he didn't have to. 

"Harry?" His father called through the door. "Brought you some food."

"It's open." Harry replied shortly. He knew this conversation was coming--but he wasn't looking any more forward to it just case his dad brought up a plate. 

Dez walked in carrying a meal of spaghetti and a glass of tea, and Harry felt nothing but grateful. But he knew it'd come with a cost. 

"So here's what's going to happen, Harry. You're going to eat, and you're going to listen. OK?"

"I can do that," Harry admitted as he sat up and took the food. His father sat on the edge of his bed and Harry felt like he was four. 

"Good. And don't interrupt me until I finish, OK?"

Can this day get any more fucked up....Harry wondered. He and his father always discussed things. The back and forth could get heated, sometimes--but they always figured it out. They'd listen to each other and ask questions, and eventually find something that worked. Apparently this was going to be different. Reluctantly, Harry twirled pasta around his fork and took a bite, waiting for his dad to start.

"First of all, let me start by saying how sorry I am, Harry. I knew that moving here would be tough--but I guess I didn't realize how tough it'd be on you--someone like you. That came out wrong....I didn't mean it like that. Shit."

Harry rarely heard his father cuss--and he'd never seen him this out of sorts. Someone like me? Were they finally going to have this conversation? Now?

"Dad...it's OK....."

"No, it's not. And please, let me get through this. Just listen, OK?"

Harry nodded and began working his spaghetti again. 

"I've always known you'd be a harder teenager than your sister. You were head strong and stubborn even as a toddler--your mom and I couldn't get you to do anything without explaining why. You always needed to know the why, Harry. And most of the time you were smart enough to figure it out. And when we moved to New York, you mother was scared to death for you--but I knew you'd be just fine. You've always been mature for your age--and smart--maybe too smart. I guess that's why I gave you more room to....just...uh...explore the world, I guess. And you did. I don't think you were ever afraid of the city--you loved it. Loved the freedom of it. The experience of it. And now you're stuck here...and things are.....well, things are different. I thought you'd adjust to it like you adjusted to everything else in your life. That you'd just figure it out and go with it like always."

Harry took a drink of his tea and looked as his father. His eyes were serious and his hands were clenched together. And his eyebrows were pinched together like he was trying to make some big important decision. But he stayed calm and kept his promise. 

"And when you started seeing Mark, well--we kinda freaked out--your mom and I."

"You knew about Mark?" Harry asked quietly--not wanting to disobey his father's request--but finding he had no choice. It just came out.

"Of course we knew, Harry. You're our son. We even talked to Mark about it. Talk about awkward, Harry. But we had to do it. We had to know that you weren't being taken advantage of, that you were safe." 

"That explains a lot," Harry whispered more to himself than to his dad. He thought back to all the times he'd practically begged for it...almost demanded it...but Mark just....wouldn't. 

"And I know it was kind of rotten to go behind your back, but we had to. But I could tell that your relationship...uh....changed? The last few weeks we were there?"

Harry shifted on the bed. 

"It's OK, Harry. I think I've always been a little sad about it, actually. Not that it happened...that you made that choice or anything...hell, when I was fifteen I'd already....uh....yeah. I wasn't sad because it happened. I was sad because you couldn't tell me about it. We didn't talk about it, I mean. If things were different, and it was with a girl, we would have talked about it--like my dad and I did when it happened for me. And I missed out on that with you. I didn't get to answer your questions or laugh with you. I didn't get to wrap my arms around you when you became a man. And I'm sorry for it. I love you, Harry. But I let you down." 

"You didn't let me down, dad. You're amazing. I know that you love me...and...uh...accept who I am. I know how lucky I am."

"Thank you for that. It really means a lot to hear you say that. Ever since I got the call from Coach Paul today, I've been looking back over the past three years...trying to figure out if I did something wrong. Did I, Harry?"

"Of course you did, dad....I'm a teenager," Harry rolled his eyes in an attempt to lighten the mood. He wasn't ready to talk about the details of his and Mark's sex life just yet. "Wait...did you say Coach Paul called you? Why would he call you? Why wouldn't the headmaster call?"

"He called, too. But right after I hung up with him, Paul called." 

"What did he say?" Harry asked, gulping down the last of his tea. It helped the lump in his throat finally work its way down. 

"Nothing, really. Not then, anyway. He said that he didn't have a lot of time to talk--but he asked me to talk to him before I came down hard on you. He said there was a lot more to what happened and that he would like to explain those things to me before I talked to you. He said he'd call me tonight after football practice and asked me to please hold off on punishment until then. I just got off the phone with him, actually. And I need to ask you some questions--but I need you to be honest with me." 

"I'll answer honestly, dad. What do you want to know?" 

"For starters, how do you feel about Louis Tomlinson?" 

Harry completely froze. His feelings for Louis were as complicated as any he'd ever had in his life--and he honestly had no idea in hell how he felt about him right now. 

"I don't know, dad. I like him--well, I used to, I guess. We kissed." Harry took a chance and shared an intimate detail with his father for the first time, ever. And once he got the words out, he knew he could do it from now on. 

"Did you kiss at the party, Harry? Where people could see you? Not that...oh, god...not that there's anything wrong with that...but..." 

"But it's Doncaster. I get it, dad. I'm not stupid or sheltered. I've been in a relationship before, dad, well, sort-of. And I know that some people out there don't like it--don't get it. But it was easy to deal with that in the city--but here--well...it's like everyone is like that. Everyone, dad." 

"I know, son. And I can only imagine what it felt like when you found someone who...uh....understood?" 

"You have no idea. I feel like I'm walking on egg shells all the time. I even seriously considered dating a girl just to...you know..fit in. How pathetic is that?" 

"Cut yourself some slack, Harry. Things have been tough for you here--I see that now. Is that why...uh...you behaved the way you did--at the varsity party on Friday?" 

"No. Not at all." Harry countered. "I was just blowing off some steam. I thought that I had finally made some friends--and I met Zayn--and he....uh...well...let's just say he knew that I was into guys...and it didn't bother him. And it wasn't like I was the only one, dad. It's not like what those incident reports say. There was like a hundred people there. Everyone was drinking and just cutting loose. I actually had an amazing time." 

"Obviously," his dad said, with humor missing from his voice. Harry thought he'd taken it a little too far. "Do you know who took those pictures of you, then?" 

"No...not for certain or anything. I was hoping I could talk to Zayn about it. Maybe he'd know for sure. But I'd be willing to bet that it was Shelley." 

"The girl who wrote the report--the daughter of the Deacon--the one who threatened criminal action?" 

That'd be the one." 

"Why would she do that to you, Harry? I mean, coach Paul said these parties have been going on for years. No drugs--just drinks--and that nobody's ever been arrested or gotten into trouble at one before. Said everyone could even sleep there so they didn't have to drive. Hell, he even said some parents pick their kids up at the end of the street and bring them back in the morning to pick up their cars. He said most all the parents already know what goes on--and deal with it. So why would the Shelley and Deacon Delacroix single you out?" 

"Maybe because Shelley Delacroix is Louis Tomlinson's girlfriend? Harry cautiously answered. 

"Well that might have something to do with it," his dad returned--eyes wide in disbelief. "Jesus, Harry. You've been here two weeks and the guy you pick out is...let me see if I've go this straight....a year twelve that's not only team captain of the varsity football team, but the guy that's dating Deacon Delacroix's daughter?" 

"That about sums it up. But you need to add a few things. Louis is also a great student, an excellent brother to his four sisters, and a complete and total asshole. He wrote one of the three incident reports that got my ass suspended."

"Well, Harry...I think maybe Louis tried to do the right thing after the fact, then."

"Why could you possibly think that? He lied, dad. Everyone at that party was drinking. Me, too. I was right drunk, to be honest--but we all were. And yes, I played tequila pong--with my shirt off. But so did Zayn, Louis and his friend Stan. And yes...things did get a little out of control. A bet was made--Zayn and I lost--so we had to tag every wall in the house completely starkers singing Mary Had a LIttle....uh....well, you get the picture. And what's driving me crazy is that Zayn wasn't in one of those pictures, dad--and he was standing right by me the whole time--literally the entire night. And the incident reports only talk about me. Not Zayn. Not Stan or Louis or anyone else. And do you want to know what the absolute worst thing is dad? Louis did it after he made plans to come over Friday for tacos--he wrote that stupid report after we kissed, dad. So he can fuck right off. Sorry about the language, but he can."

"What if he doesn't want to fuck right off, Harry? What if he's such a mess about it that he didn't practice today. What if, instead of leading his team, he was balled up on the training room floor--crying his eyes out?"

"What are you even talking about, dad. You don't even know him."

"No. But coach Paul does. And he's very, very concerned about how the captain of his football team spent practice. And he's concerned about you, too, Harry."

"Coach Paul is pretty great, dad. And I know he cares. But Louis? Whatever shit he's going through that's got him crying on the floor has nothing to do with me...not anymore."

"You sure about that, Harry?"

"No," Harry admitted--his eyes watering in front of his dad for the first time in years. "I really liked him, dad. I thought we'd....uh...."

Harry looked up at his father hesitantly--wanting to know if he could continue--trying to see if his dad was serious about the promise he'd made earlier about wanting Harry to share the details of his life. The look on his father's face was expectant and soft--if a little scared. But Harry could work with that. 

"I thought we'd maybe end up in a relationship. Not like what Mark and I had...but a real one...a different kind of thing. And maybe you and mom were right about Mark. I...uh...we....shared a lot.....but I wasn't in love with him. I loved being around him...and I don't regret a single thing we did...but I've never felt like this when I was with him. Louis....I don't know...it's like I'm dating for the first time--or wanting to, anyway. Now, who knows. And I'm not sure it's even possible in this town anyway. But I want it to be. I want to do all those things I did with Mark with Louis--because I know they'll be so much better and so much more important--because of the way I react to him. I feel like I'm sliding on ice when I'm around him. I can't even form a complete sentence, dad. I always sound like an idiot. I feel like if I don't reach out and touch him that he'll disappear. What is wrong with me?

"Nothing son. Nothing at all. That's just what it feels like when you're falling in love."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely," Harry's dad replied with a grin. "Now..no pressure or anything...but do you think you want to tell me the truth about Mark? I really want to be a part of this...uh...part of your life, Harry. Like all the other normal dad's out there. I want to be here to talk and answer questions--or in this case--find answers, I suppose. Seeing as how I'm lacking any real..uh..experience."

"You sure you're ready for that, dad?" Harry shrugged--outright laughing at the look on his father's face. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable. And...well...the details of gay sex could be a little difficult to here about if you weren't into similar things.

"I'm sure," he answered--his eyes never leaving his son's. "I can handle it. Promise."

At first, Harry had his doubts--but he shouldn't have. That night, he and his father spent the better part of four hours talking about everything. Relationships. Sex. All of it. If Harry had ever thought he was stuck in Doncaster all alone, with nobody to talk to--with nobody around who could understand--he was wrong. Absolutely, positively, without a doubt--wrong. And by the time he drifted off to sleep that night, he had a pretty good idea of what truly unconditional love looked and felt like. His dad was a fucking superhero. Just not Batman. Cause that would be gross.

******************************************************************************************************

On Wednesday night, Harry finally got his phone back. Punishment for not keeping his pants on, his mother had said, none to amused with his antics. He'd been doing schoolwork all day, and he was tired. He was still too pissed off to do anything Tuesday--and three days of work took up all of his morning and most of his afternoon. At least he was caught up. And he didn't do the work for Mr. Horan either--he could still fuck right off. He did it for his dad. Smiling, Harry went into his dad's study, collapsed on the leather sofa, and pressed the power button. Eight missed calls and fifteen text messages. Harry decided to check the texts first. About half were from Zayn. Call me. Where are you? What the fuck happened? Why aren't you at practice? Have you talked to Louis? That kind of thing. The last two were from Louis: 

im so sorry/pls call me 

Sorry. So Louis Tomlinson was apologizing over a text? So not good enough, Harry thought. 

pls dont shut me out/i need to see you/will explain everything/give me a chance 

And asking for a chance. A chance at what? At getting his ass suspended again? Of getting him drunk and telling his girlfriend to take pictures of him so they could get together and fill out more incident reports....maybe even get him expelled this time? No fucking thank you. Reluctantly, Harry entered his code to hear his voice messages. Zayn. Call me...we need to talk...blah blah blah. Basically the same call seven times. But the last one got his attention. 

"Harry. It's Zayn again. Look, I've been trying to talk to you for days. I heard what Shelley did. And that fucking prick headmaster had no right to suspend you, mate. Stan said you got three days..so that means you'll be at school tomorrow. Find me. I really need to talk to you. Uh...it's important. Louis is really...uh....well, just fucking find me tomorrow...please. Later Styles." 

Whatever. If he saw him, he saw him. But he wasn't going to go out of his way to talk to anyone tomorrow. He was going to do exactly what Mr. Horan told him to do the first day they talked. He was going to study like hell, keep his head down--and his ass out of trouble. But after checking Instagram, he realized that keeping a low profile might be a little difficult for a while. It seems it only took two days for his dick to become instafamous. Fucking brilliant. Thank god these wankers didn't know how to Vine yet. 

************************************************************************************************************* 

Harry wasn't sure what to expect Thursday morning as he walked into school--but it wasn't this. Most everyone greeted him like always and the football players he knew high- five'd and even hugged him. Even the girls seemed happy to see him--he just wished they'd stop trying to scope out his cock. He just returned the hugs and smiled through the hand slaps--and made his way calmly to class. He didn't want the attention. He wanted to be left the fuck alone. And when the office aid interrupted advanced geometry for the second time this week--with a pass for him--he thought he might lose it. But this time, it was from Coach Paul requesting his help in the training room. There was a game tonight, Harry remembered. Great. Just what he needed. And he'd have to ask Mr. Horan to get his schedule changed. Awesome. With a deep breath and a shrug of the shoulders, he took the pass and walked out the door. 

"Don't get suspended this time, Styles," one of the girls called out as he let the door slam shut behind him. He couldn't have cared less. 

Coach Paul was waiting for him in the training room--and Harry was happy to see him. 

"What's up coach? How can I help?" 

"Well, Styles, I just wanted to remind you that we have a game tonight. And we need your help. And to find out why the hell you weren't at practice for the past three days." 

"I was suspended coach. You know that. You talked to my dad. Thanks for that, by the way." 

"Don't thank me for that, Harry. I'm not thrilled with you right now. Not by a long shot. I just didn't want your dad to kill you when he didn't have all the information." 

"Wait. You're mad at me? Look, I'm sorry I took my pants off and..." 

"I could care less about that, Harry." Paul said, shaking his head and pointing to the training table. "Sit. You and I are going to have a little talk." 

"You know what, forget it, then. I'll go tell Mr. Horan to transfer me out of this circus and you can tape ankles all by yourself," Harry replied, turning on his heels to leave. 

"Fine. But can I show you something first. Before you walk out on your team?" 

That got Harry's attention. It was a low blow--but it worked. Harry turned around and waited for coach Paul to get on with it. 

"Come look at this," Paul said as he reached into his wallet and pulled out a picture. "It's a picture of me and my brother." 

Harry walked over and took the picture from his coach and looked it over. Coach Paul watched as realization worked its way across Harry's face, and took the photo back when Harry extended it to him. 

"So...what's it gonna be, Styles? You gonna listen to me, then?" 

Harry didn't answer, just made his way back to the training table and sat down. 

"I watched my brother beat himself up for years, Harry. You don't know what it's like here. Being gay, in a place like Doncaster really isn't an option. But then he met Niall, and things got better for him. They've been together for a long time now--and most everyone around here still thinks they're just roommates." 

"No offense, but they're both grown men. What's this got to do with me?" 

"Louis, Harry." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry supplied, looking at the ground. This was too fucking much. 

"Yes, you do. Look, my brother is gay. I grew up with him--we shared a room until we were eighteen for crying out loud--I'm not clueless. And Louis had his business in order, Harry. He was doing everything he needed to do to make it out of here in one piece. Football plus hot girlfriend equals normal around here, Styles. Or didn't you notice? Louis had it all together, and then you show up--and you just run around school messing everything up--tipping balances this way and that--without even knowing what you're doing." 

"So what would you think is best for him, then, coach? To date a girl who's a manipulative bitch that controls him? To play on a football team with a bunch of guys that don't have even the slightest fucking clue who he is or what he needs? Is that what's best for him? Is it?" 

"Watch your tone, Harry." 

"You watch my tone, coach. I'm done. I'm done with this whole fucked up mess. The only person around here who needs to decide what's best for Louis is Louis. And if the people around here don't see that, well--they can all just fuck right off. Sorry, but I'm sick of this place. I don't understand what everyone's problem is. If someone is happy--why is that wrong? If someone is miserable--why would anyone want them to stay that way? It's 2014, coach, and I just don't get it. Sorry, but I don't." 

"You don't get it because you're not from around here." 

"That doesn't make him any less right." Harry turned and took in a rough looking Louis Tomlinson. He was leaning in the doorway--just as he had been the first day Harry'd wrapped his ankles--and it took his breath away. 

"Now if you'll excuse us, coach, Harry here needs to wrap my ankles up, stretch out my calves, and get me ready for the game. And I need to be ready, coach, 'cause Styles here doesn't make out with scrubs," Louis remarked, making his way over to the training table. 

"Whatever. I give up. But please don't divide this team, Tomlinson. We've got a real shot this year--and we don't need any distractions. And as for you, Harry--if this whole thing destroys this team, I'm holding you personally responsible. Now get your head right, Tomlinson. We've got a game to win." 

Coach Paul kicked the door stop free as he walked out and let the door close shut behind him. Harry stood up and walked over to the door with every intention of opening it and walking out. But when he turned back and saw Louis lay down on the training table, his blue eyes filling with black, Harry turned the lock instead. 

*****************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does this always happen to me when I write? All this character development is going to turn this into a novel-length production! And there hasn't been any sex yet! Six chapters and no sex? What is wrong with me? Ugh! Trust me...I really want to write it....like seriously ;) Chapter 7! Can't wait!


	7. If You Want a Good Stretch...

After Harry locked the door, he had a decision to make--listen to his body, or listen to his head. In the past, it had been a no-brainer. But he knew that things with Louis were different. He understood that if they were ever going to have even an outside chance at a relationship--that it would have to start with bone crushing honesty. And Harry wasn't sure if he could handle it. Harry watched as Louis stretched his perfectly toned body across the training table and folded his pretty little hands low and over his abdomen--like he was protecting himself--or preparing himself--Harry couldn't be sure which. But the look in Louis' eyes gave him away. He was beyond turned on, and Harry knew it. He just didn't know exactly what he wanted to do with it. Contemplating his next move, Harry slowly made his way back over to the training table and stopped a few inches short of the table's edge, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared down at the older boy beneath him. The longer he waited, the more labored Louis' breaths became, until he was positively squirming on the table. Harry had caught Louis' hands begin to inch their way towards his cock more than a few times--but Louis never allowed himself to reach the whole way down. He'd always jerk them back up and squeezed them together tight--as if in punishment. And that fascinated Harry. If the situation had been reversed, Harry knew for sure he'd already have his cock out and his fist wrapped around it. He marveled at Louis' self control, but questioned where it came from. Was he afraid? Unsure? Or was he into self-denial? Harry seriously doubted it was the last one--but the idea stimulated him in a way he wasn't used to--and he liked it. 

Slowly, Harry let one of his hands loose from around his back and set it on the small space between Louis' hip and the edge of the table. He liked the way Louis watched it--mesmerized by the simple movement. And when Harry slid his other hand up through his curls, down his torso, to let it rest on his hip Louis couldn't hold in a gasp. Harry spread his fingers wide and slowly used them to play with the skin underneath the hem of his shirt. And Louis broke. 

"Please touch me, Harry," Louis barely let out through a shaky breath. "Please." 

Harry liked the begging tone of Louis' voice--he just wasn't ready to do anything about it. Instead, he walked to the end of the table, grabbed his ankle wrapping supplies, and started with his work. 

"What are you doing?" Louis implored. "Why are you ignoring me? Please, Harry... I need..."

"I know what you need, Louis. But I'm not ready to give it to you. We need to talk first," Harry mumbled out--trying to stay focused on his task. 

Louis propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Harry with serious eyes--taking in every movement--seeming to memorize it--as Harry applied the cool gel to his ankle and started to tape. 

"You don't want me?" It was barely a whisper. Louis sounded like a second grader that nobody wanted to play with. And the hurt in his voice affected Harry more than he'd ever admit. But he wouldn't let Louis manipulate him. Not without answers first. 

Harry looked up and gave Louis a small smile and started on his second ankle. Aware that Louis was watching, Harry exaggerated every hand placement and finger hold--tightened every grip and added extra pressure when he could. He couldn't stop himself from teasing Louis. His dad was right--he was falling for him--and falling fast. And he positively loved the look on Louis' face whenever he touched him. His face softened and his eyes crinkled both at the same time--and he always looked ready for more. Always. 

"All done," Harry supplied when both ankles were done. "What else do you need, captain?"

"Ah....my...uh...calves? They've been tight lately. Could you help me...uh...stretch them?" 

"Of course. That's my job," Harry answered--trying to cover up just how badly he wanted to get his hands on Louis' muscles. 

"Just a job, Harry?" Louis asked in the same confused/hurt tone from before. "Is that all this is? Cause I can see it's not."

Harry knew his body had reacted to watching Louis watch him. And he didn't know entirely how he felt about his body's betrayal. The way he was straining against the seem of his jeans reminded him that he was alive--that he had wants and needs--wants and needs that he desperately wanted Louis to help him take care of. 

"Occupational hazard," Harry answered coolly, trying to keep his body under control.

"Really?" Louis answered a little too defensively. Harry didn't like that Louis was hurting--and even though his body was a traitorous bastard, his resolve held fast. 

"If you want me to stretch out your calves, mate, it'd be best if you flipped over." 

"Is that so?" Louis questioned--his eyes wide and searching. And Harry knew exactly what they were searching for. They were searching for verification--for permission to feel what he was feeling. They were searching for a commitment, too. A partner, even. Someone to share with. And Harry knew he'd never turn over on that table without it. But Harry couldn't give him everything he was asking for--not yet--not even when he saw that Louis' body was responding in the same way as his. And then it was Harry's turn to gasp and struggle for control. And as the full line of Louis' cock became increasingly more visible Harry knew he'd lost. 

"On second thought, just scoot up a little, Tomlinson. So that I can sit on the edge and lay your knee over my thigh. You're calf should be loose enough to massage out that way, if you relax. But if you want a good stretch, you really should turn over," Harry explained, a bit breathless. 

Louis was beautiful--there was no doubt about it. And Harry actually had to press hard into his erection to keep from making a mess of himself as he watched Louis turn onto his stomach. 

"Christ, Louis," was all Harry could manage to choke out as he took in the sight. 

"Got a job to do, remember, Styles?" Louis worded confidently--understanding--and liking--the way he was affecting Harry. 

"Clearly. But now you can't watch my hands and fingers as I work, can you?" Harry threw back--waiting for a response. It came in a shift and a sigh. Louis had folded his hands tightly underneath his chin and Harry could see just how tense Louis was by the whiteness filling his knuckles. "Now stay still and relax. I can't stretch you out if you're not relaxed."

Louis whimpered--actually fucking whimpered--at that. A beautiful and shy whimper that overwhelmed Harry--a whimper that dismantled him piece by piece--leaving him a needy, shaky, mess. Harry couldn't ever remember a time when his body was this responsive.

"Well stretch me out good, then. I've got a game to play--and I need to be at my very best." 

How was Louis even able to talk...Harry wondered. Was it the age difference? Harry didn't think so. And then it hit him. It was his inexperience. Louis had never felt anyone's fingers inside of him--opening him, stretching him. He'd never felt anyone drag across his spot. He'd never felt the bone melting pleasure of it. He was still in control because he simply didn't know what he'd been missing. The thought did nothing to calm Harry--nothing at all. And as he reached over for the special message oil his mother hand-made for him, his mind wouldn't give up the thought of it--the promise of it. 

"You're very best," Harry echoed as he poured oil onto his hands and began working it down Louis' right calf--making sure to give it an even coat. "Now relax into it. Don't tense up when you feel my fingers dig in deep."

To Louis' credit, he allowed Harry to massage and stretch his right calf out without giving in and grinding into the soft leather that lined the table. Harry could tell he was fighting it--could tell he wanted to. Every so often his arse would tense and release--in the most beautiful show of control Harry'd ever seen. He couldn't wait to get this boy naked and break down every single ounce of his self control. Melt away every doubt. Break down every barrier. Kiss away every excuse. Fuck away every single idea of what other people had told him he had to be. He'd never wanted anyone or anything more in his life. And when he started to work on his left calf, Louis couldn't hold still any longer. And when his face scrunched up as his small but determined movements abruptly ceased, Harry thought he'd lose his mind. 

"Done. You can turn back over now," Harry provided, trying to get a handle on himself by turning around and cleaning his hands with the wet towel. But after throwing the towel into the hamper, he noticed Louis still hadn't moved. 

"Harry?" Louis called quietly. "I...uh...oh my god....Harry?"

Harry understood immediately that Louis was worried about what had just happened. Even a little bit scared, if the tone of his voice was to be believed. And Harry didn't want that--not at all. So he walked over and laid his hand on Louis' back and rubbed across his shoulders, then up and through his fine brown hair. 

"It's OK, Lou," Harry whispered as he lowered his mouth down to the boy's ear. "I've got you." 

"Do you?"

"Yes," Harry answered honestly--letting hot breath ghost over Louis' cheek on his way to his mouth, "I most certainly do."

If their first kiss in the car was chaste--this one might have been capable of damning both their souls to the ninth ward of hell. And when Harry twisted his fingers--hard--into Louis fine baby-soft hair--he keened and opened his mouth wide. Without caution or hesitation, Harry dove in. It only took a couple of seconds before Louis relaxed and moaned into it, allowing Harry's tongue the access it was begging for. After a few long minutes, Harry pulled back--his hands still twisted in Louis' hair--his eyes still on him. In a moment of sheer want, Harry reached down and swiped his fingers in the come that was smeared just above the waistband of Louis shorts--brought them up to his mouth--and sucked. 

"Christ, Harry," Louis chocked out in disbelief as he watched Harry suck on his own fingers--eyes closed--a look of pure bliss on his face. "Kiss me again."

Harry's eyes flashed open at the request and gave Louis a second or two to change his mind. When all he saw was curiosity on the face of the boy beneath him, he dove back in--giving Louis his first taste. And Harry thought it was even hotter considering he was tasting himself. Fuck, he wanted this boy. He wanted to swallow him down--suck him clean. Instead, he climbed up on the table and straddled Louis' knees--never breaking eye contact the whole time. Gently, he ran his fingers underneath the waistband of Louis' black shorts, lifting them up just enough to give Louis' hardening cock room to adjust itself. Harry's mouth watered as he watched Louis fill out--thick--thicker than himself, not quite as long, though--but absolutely perfect nonetheless. He carefully let the shorts go--resting the band gently over the area just underneath the head of Louis' still shifting cock. Christ, Harry thought--if Louis wanted to taste himself, he definitely wasn't going to deny him. Harry sat back on his heels and held eye contact with the frazzled boy--and lowered his head. He went slow--making sure Louis could tell what he was doing--not wanting to freak him out, or push him too far. He'd push boundaries later--right now he just wanted Louis to enjoy himself without having to think too much. Harry just wanted him to feel. Harry lowered his head and placed an opened-mouth kiss on Louis' right hip bone--sucking slightly--but not enough to leave a mark. He felt Louis involuntarily thrust up into him--his body seeking--even if his brain wasn't sure what for. Keeping eye contact, Harry licked over the area and used his tongue to trace the line of skin just above the top of Louis shorts--slowly--so very slowly--letting his mouth fill with the taste of him. Louis whimpered again when Harry's cheek brushed slightly against the head of his cock--but Harry didn't want to go there yet. Instead, he took the wet fabric of Louis' shorts--the exact spot where Louis had come on himself--into his mouth and sucked--allowing even more of Louis' flavor to flood his mouth. Harry was careful to only ghost hot breath over the head of Louis' now throbbing cock--making sure not to make contact--and then licked his way to the opposite hip bone to give it the same treatment as the first. He was just about to finish when Louis twisted both of his hands into his curls--pulling tight. For a minute, Harry thought it could go either way--that Louis might actually push his head down onto his cock--but he pulled him up, instead--and opened his mouth to him. Harry knew he'd really taste himself this time--not just a hint like before. And when Louis moaned out and finally took control--and tangled their tongues together--Harry couldn't help but grind down. He tried to keep it sweet, he really did--but when Louis tightened his grip of curls and kissed him that little bit harder, Harry was gone. One, two more grinds and Harry was fucking coming---and Louis gripped him through it--holding Harry's face tight against his neck--breathing and shuddering with him. 

"I'm like incredibly fucking gay," Louis laughed out once they'd pulled themselves together a bit and Harry managed to raise his head to check on him. "Like seriously." 

And then they were laughing together--and it felt right. Perfect, even. And Harry never wanted to get off that training table for the rest of his life--he'd be perfectly content to just stay there with Louis for as long as the boy would let him. 

"Was that good?" Harry asked, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer. 

"No. Not good. Try like perfect?" Louis answered, giving Harry a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I want to do it again. Every day, actually. Just like that, for the rest of my life."

"Hmmm...I don't think you'll want to do only this for the rest of your life--trust me. I can think of like a million more things you'll like even better," Harry said with a flash of a brilliant smile. "You have no idea, Tomlinson."

Harry hopped off the table and grimaced at the mess he'd made. Shaking his head at his own lack of control, he walked over to the cabinet and pulled out two clean pairs of shorts that were used when players needed the whirlpool. Nobody was allowed in it dirty, so they were necessary--and in this case--very handy. Harry pitched one of them over to Louis and cocked an eyebrow at him--a silent question--and waited for an answer. And when shock washed over Louis' face, Harry just smiled, walked over to the door, unlocked it, and excused himself while Louis changed. Fuck, he was still hard. He was in no shape to be standing in the field house hallway, to be sure. So he walked over to the staff bathroom to clean himself up and pull himself together. 

"I'm good," Louis finally called out. "You can come back in now, if you want."

He seriously doubted he could take anymore of Louis Tomlinson today. Not if he was going to be worth a shit to anyone before, during, or after the game. Louis had changed and was holding his come soaked game shorts in his hand, not sure what to do next. Harry just laughed at him, walked over and took the shorts out of his hand, and made his way over to the washer. He threw them in with some dirty towels and his own jeans--and started the load. When he turned back around, Louis was staring at him again, like he was trying to decide what to say. Harry could tell he was having a difficult time with it--but he decided to wait him out. Harry busied himself with his normal before practice routine, doubling the amount of materials he'd usually prepare. Just about everyone would want to be taped up before an actual game, even if they skipped it for practices. He'd need to be focused. But he could tell Louis needed him right now, too, and Harry was going to be there for him. 

"Harry?" Louis finally started after a few minutes of watching Harry work. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I've got no excuse. Well, I do, but it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Harry answered softly, glad that Louis was ready to talk. He needed to have this conversation, but he didn't want it to turn into a argument. "Look, I know how complicated everything is for you here. I should have figured it out way before yesterday, but I guess I didn't want to see it. I still don't really understand it--but I know you wouldn't have done it without a reason. Not after Saturday morning."

"Can I explain it to you tomorrow? I'd really like to come over for tacos, if you still want me to come, Harry. Cause I do."

"Why?" Harry asked, needing for Louis to at least give him a clue as to what he was feeling before he invited him into his home to meet is family.

"Because I need to, Harry. I've never even tried to be honest with myself before--and I want to. I want to more than anything. And I want to be honest with you, too. I want to be with you. Want to do everything with you." Louis answered sheepishly--the color returning to his cheeks yet again. "I deserve to be happy, and free--and I think you and I could make each other happy."

"I think so, too. But we've got to talk, Lou. About everything. I can't sneak around, Lou. I won't do that. Not here, not anywhere." 

"I understand. But there are things you don't see, Harry. This place is so fucked up. The people here...they're different. Even my friends."

"I get that, I guess," Harry smiled out, "I don't want to mess up the team, or make things harder for you, Louis. But we've got to find some middle ground--even in this town. And Shelley--she's got to be gone, Lou. I can't compromise on that."

"She already is. Took care of that last night. I never would have let what just happened...uh...happen if I was with someone else."

"I'm happy to hear that. Really. And I think we can figure things out. I know it'll be hard, at first, but I know it'll be worth it."

"I think so, too. And...uh...when I come over on Friday....can we talk about other things...you know...too?"

"What kind of things?" Harry asked playfully. He enjoyed making Louis squirm. Maybe a little too much.

"I have questions....Harry...about stuff...you know...I...uh...."

"Chill, Louis," Harry answered, letting him off the hook. "We can talk about anything you want. Really."

Harry smiled a big dimple showing smile, shook out his curls and went back to setting up. And he was shocked he actually made it through the game and back home without coming in his pants again. He thought about completing his normal shower routine that night, but decided to skip it. He had something so much more wonderful to look forward to--something brilliant, actually. It seems his cock and the caped crusader would simply have to do without for a change.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez. Well, that was certainly something. Let me know what you think :)


	8. Tacos, Truth & Tangled

Friday seemed like the longest day of Harry's life. His classes droned on--even the ones he really liked. And practice was no different. Harry knew it was because he had a dinner date with Louis, later--and he couldn't wait. And just when he thought he'd be able to get home, Zayn caught him by the elbow. 

"We need to talk, Styles. Now." 

"Zayn, I've got plans. I've got to get home and start dinner. Lou's coming over, and..."

"What do you mean, plans? You mean like a date?" Zayn prodded with an unfriendly tone.

"Not like a date. An actual date," Harry challenged, rolling his eyes.

"Fuck. I knew this was going to happen. Get in the car, Harry. I'll drive you home. There are some things you need to understand."

Without further discussion, Harry climbed into the Audi, buckled up, and waited for the inevitable. 

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing here, Styles?"

"Cooking dinner for my family and a friend?" Harry supplied sarcastically--already not liking Zayn's demeanor or his tone. "What the hell is wrong with that?"

"Look. This isn't going to happen, Harry. It's not. Call Louis right now and tell him dinner's cancelled."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Harry almost yelled back. "I thought at least you'd understand. I mean, come on. You can't be like the rest of the pathetic pricks around here--tell me you're not."

Zayn took a deep breath and blew it out...hard. Harry couldn't tell if he was about to give in or punch him--and that unnerved him. I mean, come on. Zayn liked guys--was even fucking a older guy in London--so what was his actual deal?

"Fuck, Styles. Don't you get it? Don't you understand how hard this is going to be on Louis? If you care about him at all...please don't do this to him."

"I'm not doing anything to him," Harry answered quietly--unsure how Zayn would respond to his confession. "I'm falling for him." 

"Fucking perfect. You're falling for him? Really? You barely know him, Harry. So just stop." 

"No chance in hell," Harry countered. "Couldn't even if I wanted to, actually. And I know he feels the same way, Zayn. You're his best friend....haven't you talked to him about it?"

"Of course I have, but the idiot's not listening to me. He won't listen to anything I have to say. His head is so fucked up right now. He actually thinks he's falling in love or some shit. And that's not possible. You don't fall in love just because you come all over yourself on the training room table. You just don't. He's mistaking physical attraction for love...or something. Hell, he's never even touched a guy! How the hell is he supposed to know what he's feeling!" Zayn shouted as he turned onto Harry's street and parked in front of his house. "I don't understand him--or you." 

"What's there to understand? I really like him, Zayn. So if you're worried I'll turn into a jerk, or something--don't. I want to be with him--at least try, anyway."

"You're both fucking stupid, Harry. This is so fucked up--and it's all your fault, Styles. He broke up with his girlfriend, Harry....for you....you know that, right?"

"Yeah...he told me. He as feelings for me, Zayn. He did the right thing." 

"The fuck he did. Shelley is a right bitch, mate. And once she finds out you two are....are...whatever you are....she's going to lose her fucking mind. She'll eat his ass for breakfast. When she's done with him...he won't even be able to walk down the halls."

"Fuck her, Zayn. And why the hell are you so scared of her, anyway? She's just a stupid girl who gets off on manipulating people. Louis deserves better than that--even you've got to admit that."

"Whatever. She was good for him. She wouldn't sleep with him--not that he would, anyway--and it was perfect. Everyone thought he was the perfect boyfriend. And his mom, Harry. Did you even think about her? What's she going to think when the whole town says her only son is gay?"

"I don't think you should label him, Zayn. You, of all people, should know better. Look. I'm not stupid. I understand this will be difficult for him. And I don't plan on making him do anything he doesn't want to do. He broke up with Shelley all on his own--I didn't have shit to do with that. Honestly. Now it seems to me you've got a choice to make. You can either support him or grind on him like everyone else in this pathetic excuse for a town. The choice is yours. And I really can't believe I'm having to explain this to you, mate. Seriously."

Zayn just stared at him--sizing him up. 

"I can't believe Louis is going to do this. Give everything up for you."

"He's not giving anything up for me, Zayn. Don't you get that? He's making a choice for himself. He wants to be honest with himself. He wants to finally be happy with the relationship he's in. He wants to feel something when he's kissing the person he's with for a change--don't you get it?"

"I get it. I just don't agree with it."

"Well, you're going to have to find a way, then. And fast. Cause he's coming over tonight--and he's not leaving with unanswered questions about anything. I can promise you that."

"Can you just take things slow with him, Harry? Please? If nothing else, can you do this one thing for him? For me?"

"I won't push him, Zayn. But I'm not going to deny him, either. Whatever choices he makes--whatever he asks for--is exactly what I'm going to give him."

"So you're going to use him, you mean," Zayn spat out--clearly getting angry with how little effect his speech was having on Harry.

"I could never do that. Didn't you hear me when I said I was falling for him? Cause I meant it. And it's not just a physical thing. I've been down that road before, I know what that is. Louis is a great guy--a guy that works his ass off and puts his family first. A guy that deserves the best in a relationship. And that's what I plan on doing--being the best guy in the world for him, Zayn. The best. Now get your shit together and get on board, mate. Your his best friend--and he's going to need your support."

Zayn didn't say anything for the longest time. He just sat in the driver's seat and stared out the window. Finally, he turned to Harry and gave him a pleading look.

"Just be careful with him, OK? Cause I love him, mate. You're right. He is my best friend--and I don't want to see him get hurt. Just promise me you'll be good to him--give him some time to figure things out."

"Of course I will. I meant what I said. The sooner you start believing that, the better off you'll be."

Zayn took a deep breath and put his hand back on the wheel. 

"Fine. Just remember that he has people that depend on him."

"Of course I will," Harry promised honestly. 

"Now get the fuck out of my car and go make Louis the best taco dinner he's ever had. Just don't fuck up, Styles. Please."

Harry didn't respond--just nodded--and climbed out of the car. And as he stood on the sidewalk, watching Zayn speed away, he marveled at just how serious Zayn was about his friendship with Louis. How protective. Louis was lucky to have a friend like him. Hopefully, Harry thought as he walked up his sidewalk, one day Zayn would be protective like that over him. That would be brilliant. 

********************************************************************************************************************************

Harry hurried up the walk, unlocked the door and went inside as fast as possible. He didn't want any more distractions until he was done cooking. He loved to cook, and he was looking forward to it. He shrugged off his light jacket, threw his backpack into his dad's study and hurried to the kitchen. Instead of his mom waiting for him, like usual, he found a note and some money. Interesting. Harry sat down at the kitchen table and read it over.

Harry,

Your mom and I are going to try that bed and breakfast she's had her eye on. Guess she finally wore me down. Also going to stop and  
watch some cricket. We should play sometime, soon. You'd like it. Very boring. Left some money for you to eat on, if you want. Oh, your sister's at  
a friends until Sunday. We'll be back Sunday night. Behave yourself, Harry, and call if you need anything.

Love D

Harry folded the note in half, shoved it under the fruit basket and laid his head down on the table to catch his breath. He'd thought about how this evening should go many, many times since Thursday. He thought they could eat with his family and then pick a movie out and watch it downstairs--and talk. In a pressure free, no stress, we're not really alone, environment. He thought that would be best--and he also thought that might help in the crazy upset best friend department as well. He liked Zayn--respected him--and seriously didn't want to disappoint him. And Louis said he had questions about a lot of things--and Harry had been going over in his head how to answer them. He knew he'd probably ask about why he was more experienced than most guys his age, and Harry knew he'd have to explain about Mark--and he was nervous about how that would go. Would Louis still feel the same about him after he told him the truth about the purely physical friendship they'd had? Harry sure hoped so. But he knew one thing for certain--he was going to be completely honest with Louis--he knew he couldn't lie to him--especially with all the other problems they were sure to face. Harry had questions, too. Too many, really. And he'd been thinking about just how much he'd be able to compromise, considering the situation and town they lived in. And what Zayn said about Louis' mom bothered him--bothered him a lot. He'd need to ask about that, too. A part of Harry worried that these questions were simply too personal to ask someone you've only just met, no matter how strong the instant connection was. Maybe Zayn was right--maybe he'd need to give Louis time to sort himself out. If Thursday afternoon on the training table was any indication, neither one of them were exactly interested in taking things slow, and while that excited Harry, it also worried him. Did Louis even know exactly where he was with all that? Would he want to talk about it--sort it out that way--or figure it out on the go? And Harry had to admit something else to himself. He had to admit that Louis might be using him a bit to try and figure himself out. It hurt Harry a little to think that, but he had to consider it as a possibility. Zayn said he'd never even touched a guy, confirming what he'd already figured out after Thursday--and Harry was OK with that part--really, he was. But the question still nagged at him nonetheless. Harry took a deep breath, put his money away, and started on the meal, hoping he'd get lost in the task and get his thoughts in order. And when the doorbell rang at seven, Harry thought he was about as ready as he was ever going to be. 

"Hey," Harry smiled out has he opened the door and motioned for Louis to come inside. 

"Hey...uh...yeah...I got these for your mum," Louis blushed out, showing Harry the box of truffles he'd carried in. 

"That's really sweet....but...uh...she's not here. I'll give them to her, though. When they get back." Harry explained nervously. 

"Cool," Louis stammered, handing Harry the gift while he studied his shoes. He was seriously nervous. 

"Come on in, then. The kitchen's through here," Harry explained as he walked back through the house. "I've been cooking all afternoon, so it's kind of a mess. I've never really learned how to clean as I go, like my mom says I should. I guess I'd rather put it off until after the meal."

"Yeah, quite a mess you've made," Louis admitted as he looked around the kitchen and in the sink. There were bowls and pans everywhere, but the kitchen table had been set nicely. 

Harry motioned for Louis to have a seat as he finished bringing the food over to the table. 

"It smells really good, Harry," Louis complimented, as he twisted his hands together in his lap. 

"Thanks. I hope you're hungry. I think I made too much," Harry responded, finally taking his seat at the small square table. "I hope you don't mind us eating in here--I just didn't see any reason to dirty up the dining room when it was just going to be us two."

"No..this is great, actually. Less, uh....formal?" Louis questioned--truly looking at Harry for the first time since he got there. 

"Exactly."

The duo ate in near silence--each sneaking glances at the other. And the silence continued as they each cleared their plates and Louis helped Harry clean up. Harry washed, Louis dried--and soon the kitchen was spotless. Harry leaned back against the counter, next to Louis, stretched his arms over his head--and yawned.

"Harry?" Louis called out, finally finding his voice.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm seriously nervous here. I feel like this is my first date or something. I can't even talk." Louis admitted with a pained expression on his face. "Please don't think that just because I'm so quiet it means I don't want to be here. Because I do. It's just..."

"It's alright, Lou," Harry interrupted with a grin, instantly feeling better. "I guess I am, too....uh...nervous? It's kinda funny, actually....after Thursday and all."

"Right," Louis laughed, shaking his head. "But what happened on Thursday....uh...that was different. Right now I feel like I should be on my best behavior...like I need to make a good impression on you. Show you I can control myself or something."

"I know exactly what you mean," Harry groaned out, turning to face Louis. "Thursday was great, though. Very spontaneous."

"I like that word for it," Louis agreed, turning to face his date. "There wasn't much thinking going on."

"Definitely not," Harry's grin evening out across his face. "But it was OK, right? You don't regret it now....you know...now that you've had time to think about it?"

Louis stepped into Harry's space, placed his hands on Harry's hips and leaned his head on his shoulder. 

"Not at all," He mumbled into Harry's neck. "But all the thoughts I had afterwards--all the questions that have been running through my head since it happened...have kinda been freaking me out."

Harry wrapped is arms around's Louis waist and pulled him in tight--allowing Louis to snuggle into his neck even more. If Harry thought for a second they'd make it through tonight without physical contact, he was seriously deluded. And once he'd wrapped Louis up and held him, he knew he was in it for the long haul. Knew he'd make whatever sacrifices he'd have to make--just to keep him there. Harry gently rubbed Louis' back and leaned down and rested his chin on the top of Louis' head--and was beyond pleased when he felt Louis finally relax into him, allowing himself to be held. 

"Come on," Harry said as he reluctantly let go of Louis and reached for his hand instead. "I'll show you around. And after that, we'll find a good place to curl up and talk about....everything."

"Ok," Louis agreed, watching as his fingers twisted up into Harry's. 

"Yeah...and maybe then you can explain this thing you have about watching my hands," Harry quipped, intending to lighten the mood.

"Not you're hands, exactly....it's...uh...your fingers?" Louis mumbled out has he allowed Harry to pull him through the house, showing him this room and that. He commented politely on the downstairs furniture, laughed appropriately at his sister's bedroom and his parent's strange wicker furniture--but absolutely lost any sense of coherence as Harry opened his own bedroom door. His room was neat with a queen futon in the middle--dresser and work desk underneath the window to the right--TV in the front, and bathroom and closet to the left. Soccer and band posters neatly lined the walls. Harry walked in and turned on stand up lamp in one corner and his night lamp next to his bed. 

"This is where I live," Harry worded as his stretched out his arms and explained the layout of the room. "My room back in New York was really small--I feel like I have my own apartment now."

"It's awesome. Mine's like a closet. But that's my own fault. I gave the bigger bedroom up for the twins. But it's OK...I really only sleep in there, anyway. Don't have a TV, either."

"Let me guess, gave that to one of your sisters, too?"

"Yeah...they like to watch DVD's on Sunday morning. It's cool, though. My mom and I get to sleep a little later, so." 

Louis finally stepped into the room and eyed the DVD rack on the wall next to the mounted TV, and couldn't keep from laughing. 

"Oh my god, Harry. You're like a romantic comedy freak or something. Titanic, mate? Seriously?"

"What?" Harry called out blushing. "It's a good movie."

"Never seen it," Louis admitted, still laughing and shaking his head. 

"Well it's settled then. Tonight, we Titanic!" Harry called out dramatically, making Louis laugh that much harder.

"Oh no. Absolutely not. We're gonna watch something with action in it."

"Oh, there's action," Harry teased, raising an eye brow suggestively. "It's pretty hot, actually."

"Hot?" Louis continued to roll, "I seriously doubt that. It's like PG."

"PG-13," Harry called out defensively--hands flying in the air. "And we are so watching it."

Louis got his breath back and watched as Harry tossed him a light blanket and threw a pillow at him. 

"Make yourself at home," Harry suggested as he got the movie ready, fluffed his own pillow for effect--and collapsed. 

Louis threw his pillow next to Harry's and made himself comfortable--still clutching the blanket Harry'd thrown at him.

"Here. Let me help," Harry supplied, as he took the blanket and spread it out over Louis' lower half. "Don't want your feet to get cold. This house is pretty old, and it gets a little chilly up here at night."

And when Harry finally started the movie, Louis slowly relaxed. He found himself mesmerized, like everyone else, for the first twenty five minutes of the movie, marveling at the real-life images of the sunken ocean liner. And the story was good, too, he had to admit. And forty five minutes in, he was hooked. He hadn't even noticed that Harry had stopped watching the movie half an hour ago--and had decided to watch him, instead. But he did notice when Harry leaned his head on his shoulder and shifted his body next to his. And by the time Rose made her final promise to Jack, they were tangled up in each other, and even Louis had to admit--a little teary-eyed. He tried to wipe his eyes as nonchalantly as possible, but of course Harry caught him. 

"Oh no you don't," Harry mumbled out, wiping his own eyes. "Don't even try to hide it. I saw you crying."

"I admit nothing!" Louis called out, laughing at the softness in his voice even though he'd intended on sounding much more manly. "It was a good movie, though."

"Told ya you'd like it," Harry smiled back, snuggling back under their now shared blanket and pulling Louis' shoulder so that they'd be facing each other. "Didn't I?"

"Yeah. You were right. It was good," Louis admitted quietly--his blue eyes seeking out green. "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Sure," Harry answered, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Did I play well yesterday?"

"You know you did. Scored three goals, had two assists. And one wicked cross over--that I saw, anyway. Beautiful footwork, truly," Harry complimented--his eyes never leaving Louis'. 

"So....did I play well enough to...uh...earn my dessert?" Louis asked softly.

"Oh...I think that's a yes. Definitely. But I chose dinner, Lou...remember? I think the dessert is up to you." Harry teased, parting his lips slightly and wetting his top lip with a brush of his tongue--letting Louis know exactly where he stood on the issue. 

"Up to me?" Louis pondered aloud. "You mean I get to chose my own dessert?"

"Yep," Harry breathed out, leaning in so that their foreheads rested together. "It's your choice. So what would you like?"

Louis didn't answer him right away. Instead, he brought his free hand up and ran it through Harry's loose, messy curls--moving them out of his eyes. He held them pinned back behind his ear and used his thumb to gently stroke across Harry's cheekbone once...twice...like he was memorizing the feel of it. And maybe he was. And when he finally leaned in and pressed their lips together--it felt so very different from anything they'd shared till now. The kiss wasn't hesitant and cautious like in the car, and it wasn't reckless like in the training room, either. It was slow--but building. Controlled--but with intent. And Harry could feel it in his fucking toes. And when Louis pulled away and tangled their fingers back together Harry had to remind himself of the conversation he'd promised to have--of the questions he'd promised to answer. But Louis seemed to have read his mind--and only smiled up at him through damp eye lashes--as they both gathered their thoughts. 

"You know...if someone would have told me a month ago I'd be here...I would have laughed at them," Louis smiled out, twisting their fingers together again. 

"Yeah?" Harry asked quietly. Louis just nodded and stared at their joined hands--like he was putting his thoughts in order. 

"Can you promise me something, Harry? Before we talk?" Louis questioned out--eyes seeking. 

"Depends," Harry countered honestly. He had a pretty good idea what Louis would ask for, but he wanted him to use his words--and keep using them. 

"Can you promise me that no matter what I say or ask, that you'll be honest with me? And not judge me? Please?"

"I will always be honest with you, Lou. Promise. And I won't judge you. But I need you to promise the same thing back." Harry countered, his eyes serious. He was still worried about how Louis would react when he told him about his previous experiences. If he'd still want him in the same way. But he wouldn't lie--no matter what. 

"Harry, after what happened on Thursday, I've had all these thoughts running through my head. Thoughts about what kind of man I am--about what kind of person I'd be in a relationship. And to be completely honest, it's been a little bit scary."

"How so?" Harry prodded gently. 

"I've always known I was different--ever since I was a little kid," Louis started. "But when you grow up in a place like this...well...it's really hard to just figure yourself out. After Saturday morning, I've been asking myself questions that I should have been asking a long time ago, but was too scared. It's not like I'm having some kind of sexuality crisis or anything. I've always known I like guys--but around here, that just wasn't an option for me. I think the reason I worked so hard at football was so that nobody would think I was...uh...anything other than normal."

There were about a million things Harry wanted to say to that, but he didn't want to distract Louis. Besides, his own personal opinions weren't important right now. Harry gently released his hand from Louis' and used the back of his finger to slowly stroke his arm--letting him know he was here for him, and that it was alright to keep going. 

"It was kind of messed up, actually. But in year six Zayn moved here and he saw right through me," Louis laughed out, remembering. "Once he got here, things got better. He was always there to listen--and he accepted me. Never judged me. We've been best friends ever since. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to talk to you about us, even tried to make you change your mind."

"Yeah. Well, he did drive me home today, so." Harry smirked, keeping his tone light. He didn't wan't Louis to think he was worried about Zayn. 

"Oh my god...he didn't threaten you or anything, did he? He can be....uh...protective...of me." Louis admitted through questioning eyes. 

"Yeah...I can see that. I can also see that he loves you, Louis. He cares about you. If I didn't know better, I'd actually wonder if there wasn't something between you two..."

"Oh no. Not even close. We're just friends--always have been. He's so not my type," Louis chuckled lightly. And Harry had to admit that he liked the answer. Knowing that he was the first guy to touch Louis made his body fill with warmth. He knew it was selfish, considering he couldn't exactly offer Louis the same thing, but he felt it nonetheless. 

"Can I ask you something? I don't know if you'll want to answer me, but I really want to know. It's important to me," Louis asked--tracing Harry's fingers with his own--as he waited for Harry to respond. 

"Of course," Harry whispered out. He knew where Louis was going, so he took a deep breath and readied himself to keep his promise. Louis just nodded--more to himself than to Harry--and continued. 

"After what happened on Thursday...I could...uh...tell....that you knew what you were doing...that what happened wasn't new to you. That you'd been there before. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Harry answered honestly. "I guess I have." Harry looked over at Louis to see if there was any signs of judgment on his face. There wasn't. Louis was calm--but focused. Clearly, he really needed to know. 

"I was seeing someone back in New York. And he was older than me....more experienced. We spent a lot of time together. I had just turned fifteen and was more than ready...and he was there for me. We did a lot of...uh...things together."

"What kind of things? Louis questioned determinedly. Harry realized he wasn't going to let him get by with the shortened version. 

"Well....like I said, he was older. He was a premed student, and had his own place. When I first met him, I'd go over to study or work--but after a while things just happened. But he'd never top for me. We did just about everything else, I guess."

"Top?" Louis questioned. And when Harry could tell he really didn't know what that meant, he almost died right there on his futon. Christ. How was he ever going to make it through this conversation? He had no idea. But he was going to try his best--Louis deserved that.

"Uh...well...when a person tops...they're the one who....uh...." Sticks it in? Puts it in? Doesn't feel like having a dick in their ass that time? Bleeding Christ. How was he supposed to finish this sentence. Should he use hand gestures? No. Definitely not. No hand gestures. If this were happening to anyone else, Harry thought, it would actually be funny. 

"The one who is inside the other?" Louis supplied--much more eloquently than Harry'd ever be able to do in this situation. 

"Exactly," Harry answered. "He wouldn't do that for me."

"He wouldn't fuck you?" Louis asked quietly--in a clear and confident voice that had Harry reeling. Clearly, he had underestimated Louis.

"No. He never would," Harry admitted, eyes sober.

"Why?" Louis questioned with a look of confusion on his face. "How on earth could he not want to do that with you?"

Harry wasn't sure if Louis even really knew what he'd just admitted to. But he really wanted to know. He had to know. And since they were being open and honest with each other, he thought now would be the perfect time to ask. 

"Louis? Have you even thought about what you'd prefer? When you're with a guy?"

Louis just smiled and continued tracing his index finger up and down Harry's hand. "Of course. When I was a kid I just knew I was into guys. But then I turned fourteen....and well...you know what that's...uh....like. And I always pictured myself underneath someone...letting them inside. But then Thursday happened.....and....well....I've been sort of confused by it all."

"Confused, how?" Harry gently wondered--keeping his voice even and under control. 

"Well....you're fingers. You swiped them through my come and then you stuck them in your mouth, Harry. Your mouth. And your eyes were all closed. And your mouth was so wet. So wet. And all I could think about was...uh...oh my god?"

"It's alright Lou," Harry nearly whispered. "Whatever it is, it's OK. You can tell me anything. I promise."

"Christ," Louis breathed out, "You're long perfect fingers, Harry. All I wanted to do was pull them out of your mouth and replace them with my cock. I wanted to flip you beneath me and crawl up and just....just..."

"Fuck my mouth?" Harry finished--his eyes never leaving Louis'. And if he had to adjust himself underneath the covers--well. 

"Yeah. And then afterwards I realized I could definitely be the one that...uh...tops? Is that right?"

"Oh my god, Louis." Harry countered as he sat up and stretched his arms over his head. "You're going to be the death of me."

"So that's why I asked, Harry."

"Hmmmm?" Harry responded, taking a minute to get himself back under control and comfortable. 

"Why didn't he want to top for you? Is it because you didn't want to?" Louis asked with a very serious expression on his face. He clearly wanted to know.

"No. That's not why, exactly," Harry admitted--taking the time to shift closer to Louis and pull his hand onto his chest. He was worried about this part...but he wasn't going to lie. "I wanted to--but he wouldn't. He said that it wasn't something we should do. It was something that I should wait and do with someone I was in love with. It's kind of complicated. I really cared about Mark. But I wasn't in love with him. And he wasn't in love with me, either. We were friends--and we cared about each other, but that was it. But I was so caught up in the feeling of everything, the physical side of it...that I wasn't really worried about the emotional side. But I'm glad he was. And now I'm really glad that I didn't share that part of myself with him. He was right. He always told me that doing that was not for sex--it was for when you were ready to make love. And he said I'd know the difference--that I'd know when it was right--and that not he, nor anyone else, could ever explain it to me."

"Did he let you...uh...top?" Louis mumbled out--unsure of how to say what he wanted to know. But Harry understood. 

"Yeah. He bottomed for me."

"What was that like?" Louis asked calmly--though Harry noticed his jaw was set a little more firmly than before. 

"It was good. I mean...I don't really know how to answer that, I guess. I've never been with anyone else, so." Harry answered as he closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Louis hand--hoping that he wouldn't be upset at the answer he gave.

"He sounds like a really good guy," Louis finally responded--shifting his body down and sideways so that he could lay his head across Harry's chest--and stretch out on his side. 

"He is. And I don't regret being with him. I'm glad there are some things we didn't...uh...do--but I don't regret what we did," Harry admitted honestly. And for a a long time, they were both quiet. It seemed they both needed a bit of time to process. But it was Louis who was ready to continue first. 

"I thought this was going to be easy," Louis chuckled out, tracing up and down Harry's extended arm--still thinking. "It's not." 

"No. Not really. But it's important. And it's you're turn, Lou," Harry smiled out, running his hand through Louis' hair. "If you think the listening part is hard...." 

"You need to work on your encouragement strategies, Styles," Louis bantered. "Mine is kind of pathetic, honestly. At least you were with a person that made you happy--someone you could be yourself with." 

"So tell me, then. I really want to know, Louis. Remember our promise?" 

Louis didn't answer, just took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and closed his eyes. 

"It's hard for me to talk about, Harry. Very few people even know. But here goes nothing," Louis shrugged and turned so that he could see Harry's face. "Growing up here in Doncaster, like I said, was kind of...difficult...for me. And Zayn never really thought I was gay...not in the beginning, anyway. He was always pushing me to date this girl, or that girl. So eventually, I did. When I turned fifteen I started dating a girl named Ella. She was really sweet. God, Harry. Do you remember what it was like? Everyone around you bragging all the damn time about losing their virginity? Christ--the guys here were the worst. They wouldn't shut up about it. It's so fucking awesome, mate! Wait till you get inside, Lou...it's amazing! Whatever. And Zayn was just as bad--hell, maybe even worse. So after Ella and I had been together for four months--we decided it was time, or whatever--so. It was her first time, too...and it was nice. I mean--there was meaning to it, at least. I cared about her. But it wasn't anything like I had been expecting. Hell, I think some part of me was secretly hoping I'd love it. Obviously that didn't happen. Zayn just laughed it off--said I just needed more practice. But she moved to London not long after it happened, so that worked out. And then Zayn set me up with Jennifer. That was a disaster. She was drunk. I was even worse. Not a good combination. I nearly puked on her. And then I nearly puked on Zayn the next morning when I was trying to explain to him what it was like when I went down on her. Mother of god, how do people do that? After that, Zayn kinda gave up--accepted that I really was gay or whatever--and came up with the Shelley theory. The thing is, I actually liked her back then--well, I respected her, anyway. That was before I really got to know her, obviously. But Zayn was right about one thing. Aside from two attempts at a hand job that didn't go very well--we never did anything more than kiss. It was perfect. I didn't mind kissing her, really. We had become friends, so it wasn't like a chore or anything. But then you got here--and everything changed like in an instant." 

As Louis rambled on, Harry couldn't keep himself from smiling. Louis was absolutely and undeniably adorable. And he never wanted him to leave--but it was getting late. He glanced over at the clock and saw that it was half one. Louis felt him shift--and noticed the time as well. But he just shrugged and flipped himself around to lay straight--snuggling into his pillow. Perplexed, Harry raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Right. Sorry. It's late. I told my mom I'd probably stay over...but..." 

"Perfect," Harry interrupted, smiling. "Now that that's settled, can I please take these jeans off? I promise I'll keep my shorts on--but I can't sleep like this." Harry motioned down at his clothes-covered body like it was a great travesty. And maybe it was. Louis decided that he agreed with that, and nodded his assent--and Harry liked that he didn't turn around or look away as he started to undress. 

It wasn't like Harry was trying to give Louis a show, exactly--it just sort of happened. And when Harry heard Louis whisper a quiet swear to a higher power when he peeled his shirt up and off his body--his cock didn't have a choice but to react. And by the time his jeans were in a pile with the rest of his clothes--Louis was in the same shape. 

"Come here, Louis," Harry let out, motioning for Louis to stand up. And by the time he made it over to stand in front of Harry, he was shaking. 

Harry reached down and grabbed both of Louis' hands and held them in his own. 

"It's OK, Lou," Harry soothed, once Louis had his breathing under control. "It's just us. Nobody else. Nothing else. Just you and me." 

"Yeah," Louis sighed out--finally relaxing a bit. 

"Are you tired?" Harry offered--but not really meaning it. "Cause if you're not, I think I'd like to add something to your dessert menu." 

Louis eyes snapped open at that--and Harry could tell that any hint of sleepiness left his body in an instant. Louis gripped Harry's hands tighter as Harry smiled a playful smile and let his eyes drop to watch Louis' cock fill out and press against his jeans. And when Louis dropped one of his hands and rubbed his finger over Harry's bottom lip--Harry's first thought was that he was only teasing. But as Louis continued to trace Harry's lip, his eyes darkened and his hand started to tremble. And when Louis finally pushed the tip of his finger just passed Harry's lip and into his mouth--scanning Harry's face for approval--Harry instantly knew it wasn't a tease. 

"Yeah, Lou. Want you to," Harry whimpered out--lifting Louis' shirt up and off his body. God, he was finally going to get to touch him--taste him--hopefully swallow him down, even. After throwing the shirt to the side, Harry opened his mouth and sucked Louis' finger down. 

"Harry? Please," Louis begged out. "Please tell me what to do." 

"Do whatever you want, Louis," Harry offered after moving his head back and off Louis' finger again with a light pop. "My mouth is your dessert." 

And Louis was gone. It wasn't like he'd never had a blow job before--but this was Harry. Harry's mouth. And he wanted it. Actually fucking wanted it. And when Harry fell to his knees and started to pull his shorts off his hips, Louis thought he'd never recover from this one simple thing. 

Harry knew Louis liked his fingers--so he used them. With a skill he was no longer conflicted about, he licked across his palm and up his fingers--watching Louis' cock twitch as he did so. And when he wrapped his fingers around the boy hovering over him, and started a slow but purposeful stroke--he knew Louis wouldn't last long. Louis looked down, twisted his fingers into Harry's curls, and watched as Harry opened his mouth for him--his tongue resting on his bottom lip--waiting. 

"Christ," was all Louis was able to choke out before he stepped forward and did exactly what he admitted to wanting earlier. Harry loved the way Louis felt in his mouth--thick and smooth. He also loved how Louis could hold his rhythm--a benefit of being an athlete, Harry thought briefly--as Louis increased his pace. And god, Harry couldn't help himself any longer. He reached into his own pants and started a smooth stroke of his own. 

"You're mouth, Harry...fuck...can I? Louis finally asked. And Harry was never going to tell him no. He just blinked up at him and sucked harder--hoping Louis would get the message. And he did. But instead of giving Harry what he wanted, he gently pulled back on Harry's curls and made his was back over to the futon, propped himself up on his elbows, and spread out--just like he had on Thursday when Harry'd taped his ankles. 

"You are so beautiful, Louis," Harry complimented as he took in the sight of him--letting Louis calm just a little bit so he'd get to have his cock in his mouth a little longer. And when Louis looked up at him with pleading eyes, Harry obliged and was about to come to him before Louis's voice interrupted his movement. 

"Can you take your shorts off, Harry. Please? I want to see you." If Harry had thought for a second he'd make it through this night without making a mess of himself, he was completely and hopelessly wrong. Never one to disappoint--Harry made quick work of his shorts and climbed between Louis' legs--and had to practice every ounce of self control he'd ever had--to stay on task. And considering where he was now laying--that was next to impossible. But Louis twisted his hands in his curls--and after tugging him up a bit--practically shoved his head down onto his now leaking cock. And when Harry realized that he'd actually gagged around Louis, he was gone. Gone, gone, gone. It didn't take long for Louis to lose control--and a few minutes later Harry felt him tug upwards on his curls--but he was having none of that. He just pulled his mouth down further and swallowed all that Louis could give. Almost as an afterthought, Harry reached down and made quick work of himself--releasing over his own hand--as his curled into Louis' body, his cheek resting on the slight pudge of his perfect little tummy. 

At some point, Louis must have moved him up to his pillow and covered them both up--but Harry remembered none of it. And when he woke up sometime during the middle of the night, he was happy to discover that Louis Tomlinson's body was-- once again-- tangled up with his own. 


	9. Pass (An Intermission, of sorts)

Harry'd never woken up to a note before--and he didn't like it. He definitely would have preferred waking up to Louis instead of words--and he felt cold and awkward as he began reading. 

H- Gotta get home to help my mom with my sisters. See you at school - L

See you at school? What the hell did I miss? Harry thought--as worry crept up inside of him. Why didn't he just put the movie on downstairs? Did it even make a difference? Maybe Louis really did have to help with his sisters, like the note said--but his instincts were screaming at him--and he trusted them. Turns out, they were right. Harry called Louis on Saturday and twice on Sunday, but he never picked up. On Saturday he left a sweet message, but by Sunday night his words were awkward and unsure. Fuck. What was wrong? He really wasn't sure. But as he walked into school Monday morning, he was more than a little pissed, and looking for an explanation. 

Everyone greeted him exactly like always--high five'd and spoke to him just like always--but he couldn't find Louis anywhere. He even walked through the building that housed the lower grades, hoping. And by lunch, he was actually worried. But he shouldn't have been--Louis was doing just fine. 

Harry couldn't explain later why he did it--or even how. But when he saw Louis sitting in the cafeteria--laughing and talking--something broke inside of him. And the fact that Shelley was sitting on his lap definitely might have had something to do with what happened next. 

"Hey, Lou. Been looking for you all day. Did you get here late?" Harry asked more than a little too loudly--his eyes firmly set on the girl spread out in his lap. 

"Been here all day, mate. What's up? You run out of tape or something?" Louis responded sarcastically. Harry didn't like his tone at all. Not even a little bit. But the look in Louis' eyes didn't match his words. His words were biting--but his look was pleading. What the actual fuck was going on? 

"Got plenty of tape, mate," Harry spat out, "to go right along with the note you left me."

"Note? Are you out of your mind, Styles?" Louis antagonized--but his eyes were positively begging now. 

"Must be. Sorry. Just thought that you might want to consider the feelings of the guy you just..."

"Jesus! Aren't you missing class are something kid?" Shelley questioned loudly--clearly confused as to why Harry would even speak to her, much less Louis, after what happened the week before. "Cause I know year tens don't have this lunch."

"Lou?" Harry asked quietly in a last ditch effort to get an explanation that wouldn't break his heart. But it didn't come.

"Fuck, Styles. If you need something, go ask coach. Just because I'm captain doesn't mean I give a shit." Louis groaned out, not even having the decency to look at him any longer. "I'm trying to eat here."

"Yeah.....sure....thing. My bad....captain." Harry barely got out as he took a few steps backwards--eyes watering slightly. And Shelley must have smelled blood.

"Oh my god, Louis....I think he's going to cry! Do you want us to call your daddy again to come and pick you up? Or do you want your mum this time?" Shelley scolded as the whole table laughed. 

Harry took one final look at Louis and watched as he pulled Shelley tighter into his lap and went back to his sandwich, ignoring him altogether. After that, Harry knew he'd never felt so humiliated or used in his life. To his credit, Harry managed to make it outside the cafeteria and into the loo before the tears started. And when he got back to class and promptly asked for a nurse's pass--at least he looked the part. 

*******************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short set-up chapter. You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you? I wonder who's to blame?


	10. What?  Friends can Skype.

Harry's mum picked him up--felt his head and gave him a doubtful look. But in the end, she believed his stomach virus/bad bathroom experience story. At least he thought she did. And when he finally made it up to his room he was more angry than upset. I mean, fuck. He thought about calling Zayn, but quickly changed his mind. He was pretty sure where Zayn's loyalties would lie--and he made it pretty clear he didn't want Louis dating anyone other than that little monster Louis had cuddled up in his lap this afternoon. He needed someone to talk to, though--and he didn't really want to have to admit to his dad all the details of Friday night. So after glancing at the clock, he quickly did the math in his head, and turned his desktop on, and loaded Skype--just in case. He thought he should text first--it was two here, so it would be 7 in New York--which means Mark would probably be home, but he couldn't be sure. 

you at home? need to talk. h

skype/2 secs

yup. h

Harry waited on Skype for a minute, pushed the right buttons, and in seconds Mark was looking back at him, a hint of worry on his face. 

"Hey Harry....what's up?" Mark started, adjusting his web cam so that Harry could see him sitting in his desk chair--and not just his face. Harry just sighed and made the same adjustment. He always thought close face-up's were creepy. And when he was happy with how he looked, he answered.

"Just needed to talk to someone who knows me," Harry shrugged and curled himself up into his desk chair. It was getting harder and harder to do that these days. 

"Ut oh," Mark mumbled, shaking his head. "Come on. Out with it, then. You know you can't stall me...I'll eventually get it out of you. Always did and always will, so."

"I miss you so much....you have no idea, " Harry started. "This place is seriously fucking crazy...I don't even know how anyone can live here."

"Come on...it can't be that bad. And I know you've made friends by now. Hell, everyone probably worships you," Mark flattered, intending to lighten the mood and maybe calm Harry down a bit. He wasn't used to seeing him so uptight--and it just felt wrong. 

"Yeah...the girls here think I'm pretty cool, I guess. Well, most of them anyway."

Harry watched as Mark rolled his eyes at him and stretched his legs out and propped them up on his desk. "And what about the guys then? Anyone interesting? You said that Zayn guy might be cool."

"He's alright, I guess. Not my type. He's kind of a douche. But then again, everyone in this town is kind of a douche, so I guess I should get used to it already."

"It can't be that bad, Harry. I mean you said it was like a small town or whatever, but that can't possibly mean you don't have any...uh....options?" Mark stuttered out uncharacteristically. 

"Well let's see," Harry began as he reached his arms over his head and stretched his upper body out. "Options. Right. Sure. Tons of options, mate. Option one--Zayn. Total douche and overprotective best friend of option two. Who is also a douche. Of like the highest order. He might be king of the douches. He could probably start his own douche cult and take over half of fucking England." 

"Wow. Impressive," Mark let out, shaking his head again. "So tell me about douche number two, then. And don't tell me there's nothing to tell, Harry. I know you. And it's written all over your face."

"That obvious, huh?" 

"Pretty much, yeah."

Harry sat quietly for a minute and wondered if Mark was the right person to call with this. He knew Mark cared about him, but maybe he missed him a little too much. Or maybe he was just feeling emotional because of what happened earlier in the cafeteria. He wasn't exactly sure, but he decided to go for broke. 

"Fuck. Ok. Here goes. So Louis...uh...that's douche number two...I...uh...."

"It's OK Harry...whatever it is, we can talk about it. Just tell me. I knew you'd call and want to talk sooner or later. I've kind of been preparing myself for it, actually. But I have to admit, it still really sucks."

"Really?"

"Yeah...I mean Christ, Harry. We spent so much time together. And even though I wouldn't let myself label us, I have to admit that we were pretty much together. Probably the longest time I've been with one person in my life...so, yeah....but I'm here for you. And I miss talking to you."

"I miss you, too." Harry knew that wasn't exactly the same thing, but he didn't care. Fuck, he missed Mark so much right now. "Talking to you, too. I hate it here. I just want to go back to my life in New York." 

"Well, I don't think that's going to happen...no matter how much either of us miss it."

"You miss me?" Harry whispered quietly--too quietly for his mic to pic up. But Mark must have read his lips.

"Sure I do. Seven months of seeing someone nearly every day can be habit forming," Mark smirked out. "Now, come on, Harry. Tell me about this Louis."

Harry mentally prepared himself--but he had to admit that seeing Mark and hearing him say he missed him made it really difficult to focus. And he was still so fucking mad. But he thought if there was anyone who could help him sort out his head, it'd be Mark. He knew him--really knew him. 

"Louis is pretty great. Or at least I thought he was. He's smart and helps his mom take care of his sisters. And he's captain of the football team. He's fit as fuck, too. Uh.....sorry?"

"Don't be," Mark laughed. "It's all good. So he's smart, hot and a good brother. Now tell me what happened, Harry. And don't even bother trying to lie or leave anything out."

"Fine. Well, when I met him, I thought he was like perfect. And we got to know each other at a party I went to, and I could tell he...uh...understood me. I could literally feel his attraction to me....or something. He drove me home the morning after the party and we kissed--and I swore I could feel it in my fucking toes. Anyway, I invited him over for tacos and thought maybe we could date or whatever."

"Sounds nice. Then what happened?"

"Well, I got to school and got suspended for three days. His monster of a girlfriend took pictures of me at the party and turned my ass in."

"Wait. What? Girlfriend? Suspended? Harry....how....uh....why...."

"Listen. It's not as bad as it sounds."

"Trying to date a straight guy sounds pretty ambitious--even for you," Mark smiled out. "Not to mention a straight guy with a girlfriend."

"Yeah...I lied...it gets worse. His girlfriend's father is the head of the local church and she's like the queen bee of the universe. She took pictures of me drinking and running around the house naked after Zayn and I lost a bet. I got called in and suspended because she and two of her friends wrote incident reports saying I was setting a bad example or something. And....uh....Louis was one of them."

"And this was after you kissed?"

"Yup."

"The guy must be a moron, then. Did your parents freak out on you?"

"Not really. My dad and I finally had "the talk," anyways. And it wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. Sorry about that, by the way. I didn't know my parents came and talked to you. I can't even imagine how embarrassing that must have been. Like seriously. But after my dad told me at least I knew why you didn't want me."

"Harry. That's so not the reason why. You know that. It was a big part of the reason, at first, but not later on. The last few weeks you were here in New York were so....uh....difficult. Please believe me when I say that I wanted you. I just couldn't...for my own reasons, really. And I knew you weren't in love with me. But I wanted you....don't ever think differently about that." 

Harry shifted in his chair and watched as Mark raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Harry?" Mark questioned seriously--but there was laughter in it. 

"Sorry. I guess I miss more than just talking to you," Harry replied sheepishly, curling in on himself. "Aside from my hand and a pretty hot grind...well....let's just say living in Doncaster has been difficult in more ways than one."

"Grinding, huh?"

"Yeah...it was hot. That was the first time Louis and I did anything. He was upset about writing the incident report and we were alone in the training room, and it just sort of happened."

"Yeah? Was he good to you, Harry? Afterwards?"

"Yeah...for a couple of days anyway. He came all over himself and kissed me when I had his come in my mouth--and then came over for tacos. That was even better. He said he liked how I swiped my fingers through his come and then sucked on them--admitted that he wanted to pull my fingers out and use his cock instead...so after tacos and Titanic...well....that sort of happened, too."

"Sort of? My god, Harry. So you obviously forgave him for writing the report--but I never thought you'd go along with the girlfriend thing. Not even for a second."

"That's just it. He told me they broke up...but I guess they didn't. Today at school I found him in the cafeteria and she was all over him. And I don't really have an explanation for it. After Titanic, we talked about his life and how much he wanted to be free. He even said he wanted to be with me. And I really wanted him, Mark. And I thought he wanted me, too. And...well...you know me....I let him....uh....you know....my mouth. And we fell asleep together. But in the morning I woke up to a note, and then lunch...uh...happened."

"Just your mouth, Harry?" Mark questioned quietly--but Harry could hear the hesitation in his voice. 

"Yeah. I didn't want to push him too far, and I knew I was falling for him, but I knew it wasn't the right time, either. Like you said. Remember?"

"Of course I do. I told you that only you'd know--that no one else would be able to tell you when the right time would be. And that you should be in love, first."

"Exactly," Harry nodded--stretching his own legs out. 

"So what now? What are you going to do?"

"I have no fucking clue. I faked being sick, came home, and got on this call with you. I was hoping you could explain to me what I did wrong."

"Harry, I don't think you did anything wrong. I am surprised that you opened yourself up so quickly, though. But you always did go after what you wanted--no matter who told you no," Mark admitted with a bright smile and a shift of his own. 

"Yeah...I still don't like being told no. I guess you pretty much spoiled me that way. Remember when Daniel and I snuck into that party you were throwing?"

"How could I forget. You watched me the whole night...even after I made it clear that nothing would ever happen between us."

"And...."

"Fuck, Harry. You were just too persuasive, I guess. By the end of the night you just wore me down. You were so persistent--and unbelievably confident. It was unnerving, really. My friends thought you were a cute kid with a crush...they gave me shit about it for weeks."

"That didn't stop you from cornering me up against the kitchen counter though....did it?"

"Nope." And even the not so great internet connection couldn't hide the look in Mark's eyes. Harry knew it well--and it felt amazing to see it--to be close to someone who actually wanted him. And Harry knew that he did--and in this moment--the feeling was mutual. 

"I guess," Harry teased, letting his hand run through his curls, "that my mouth wasn't good enough for him. Were you lying to me all the times you said I was good with it?"

"Christ," Mark mumbled, shifting again. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted honestly, as he walked over and locked his door. He didn't want to give his mum a surprise and he also knew that Mark would get a good look at his backside. "But I want to."

"Yeah?"

Harry didn't answer...he just took his shirt off, unsnapped the top of his jeans, slid his zipper down half way, and waited on Mark to decide. It didn't take long. 

"Fuck, Harry. Your body. You've gotten bigger." Mark let out through a shaky breath as he lost his own shirt and slid his jeans down his thighs. And Harry almost lost it as he watched Mark wrap his hand around himself and close his eyes. But he hadn't started to stroke himself yet, and Harry very much wanted the visual. 

"I miss fucking you," Harry continued, as he made quick work of his own jeans. "I miss having my fingers inside of you, too. Miss stretching you out."

Mark positively moaned at that--his hand giving Harry what he wanted. Harry found that he couldn't even blink as he watched Mark slide his hand up and down his shaft--carefully avoiding the head. And Harry really liked that--it meant Mark wanted to do this right...not rush it. 

"Do you, now...what else do you miss, Harry?" Marked questioned with ease--clearly having decided that he was on board. 

"Your mouth. I miss your hot mouth on the head of my cock. I always loved the way you'd suck me off. So soft and slow in the beginning...your tongue just tracing around me. I miss how you'd tease me....make me beg for it."

Harry could no longer keep a hand off himself. But he wanted it to last, too, so he just gripped his base and squeezed lightly--letting himself thicken up. 

"You were easy to tease, Harry. Always so responsive. So beautiful." Mark gasped out--his voice becoming uneven as he lengthened his stroke--but still avoiding his most sensitive spots.

"And when you'd finally swallow me down...and I'd beg you...fucking beg you to put your fingers inside me....you'd just take me further down until I could feel myself hit the back of your throat....and it wouldn't take long for me to come after that...and just fill your mouth..."

"Jesus fuck," Mark called out as Harry watched him spill all over his hand and up his abs. Harry always thought Mark was pretty when he came. Today was no exception. Harry continued to stroke himself lightly and waited for Mark to come back to him. And when he finally did, Harry continued.

"Tell me.....please....tell me how you would do it....tell me how you'd finger me open, " Harry requested, as he finally started a slow twist of his wrist. "Would you tell me to get on my stomach and then put your mouth on me? Would you open me up with your tongue....or would you want me on my back?"

Harry was lost in the idea of Mark fingering him open--and he loved how Mark was watching him--deciding whether or not to play along. But after watching Harry close his eyes and spread his legs wider--he decided that he did. And he gave Harry just what he needed.

"I've thought about this a thousand times, Harry. I know exactly how I would have opened you up--got you ready for my cock. I'd want you on your back....definitely...I'd want to see your gorgeous face and watch every single look. Thought about it all the time....Harry....fuck...thought about what you'd look like as I stretched you...slowly...so so slowly.....and then....when you were ready....I'd spread my buried fingers wide and...."

"Oh my god," Harry finally called out--reaching the tipping point--his hand working just right. And when his mind played the image of Mark's words in his head--and imagined what it would feel like to be spread open--he, too, covered his hand. 

"Are you going to clean yourself up for me, then?" Mark asked carefully--still watching in disbelief at the sight on his computer screen. 

Harry just nodded and went about his business-giving Mark the one thing that could absolutely, positively, without question, shake him to the core. He licked and sucked his hand clean--even scooping up what little his hand had missed and fed it to himself--and enjoyed every fucking flavor of it--of himself, really. And when he finally pulled himself together--he was glad that Mark was smiling at him instead of looking upset or pissed. Not that he expected him to.

"Christ, Harry. That was.....uh...unbelievable."

"Yeah?" Harry questioned lightly as both of them cleaned up and dressed. 

"Oh absolutely." Mark assured. And right now Mark's maturity was Harry's favorite thing about him. He knew Mark understood why this had just happened, and that he wouldn't freak out about it. "And to be honest....I...uh.....well.....I've never done that before."

"What? You mean it was your first time?" Harry laughed out in his playful after-sex tone. "Wow. Imagine that."

"Shut it." Mark demanded--but there was no real malice in it. "Just because I'm older...that doesn't make me a total slut."

Harry just laughed even harder--and Mark just shook his head and smirked along with him. 

"You know," Mark started, after a few minutes of laughter and smiles, "I don't get this boy of yours. I can't imagine how he could resist you--not for a second."

"I guess my mouth isn't nearly as good as you said it was," Harry teased--knowing and liking how Mark turned the conversation back to the here and now, and away from the physical act they'd just shared. They were always good at that--keeping the physical separate from even their friendship--and Harry was never more grateful for that than he was in this instance. There was no awkwardness--no need for discussion. It was just how they worked. 

"Oh...I'm quite certain that's not the reason he's being a.....a...what did you call him again....a cult-leading douche?"

"Well what is it then? What did I do wrong?"

"Harry...have you considered that maybe it's not you? That it's him? That he wasn't ready to do all the things he said he wanted to do? I mean, I don't know him, at all, but from what you've told me about your little town, it might be hard for him. Maybe he's scared, Harry."

"I get that. But does that mean I compromise everything for him? After I came out I swore I'd never hide, Mark."

"I know you did, Harry. And your exuberance and faith in yourself is one of the most attractive things about you. It's amazing, really. I guess you just have to decide if he's worth it or not."

"After today...the answer is no. God, Mark. I felt so fucking sick when I saw him today--with Shelley all up in his lap. But not the kind of sick you might expect--I felt sick with myself."

"It sounds like he hurt you, Harry." Mark said with a small smile, "But he wouldn't have been able to hurt you like that if you didn't feel something for him. If you weren't falling for him." 

"You really are an amazing person. You know that, right?"

"Only when it comes to you. With everyone else, I'm a total prick."

"So you're not seeing anyone, then? Because you should, you know. As awesome as Skype sex is---and it really, really is.....you should find someone."

"Maybe. I'm really busy with school. That hasn't changed, Harry."

"I know. I'm busy with school, too, actually. In advanced classes. Got my four point still, though. But it's not as easy as I thought it would be. I actually have to work and study. But I like that--I like the challenge of it."

"Well, Harry, why don't you focus on that, for a while...and give King Douche some time to sort himself out. Because trust me....after feeling your mouth--he won't be able to stay away for long. I can promise you that."

And it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. 

"Whatever."

"Right. Whatever. Not fooling me, Harry. Not in the slightest. Just promise me that when he comes back around--and he will--that you'll listen to your heart?"

"What?"

"That you'll go with your heart--not your head."

"Mark...that sort of goes against what you've always said about..."

"I know," Mark interrupted quietly enough that Harry had to lean closer to his small speakers to hear, "sometimes your head can get in the way of what you're feeling. And if you only listen to your head--you might miss out on something great. Something you can't replace."

"I'll try?" Harry choked out--not missing the double meaning in Mark's words. 

"Good. Now I've got work to do, Harry. And if you were here, I'd be on your ass about you doing yours. So get to it, Styles."

Harry just nodded back at the demand, feeling more like his old self--the confident, take no prisoners guy that he'd kind of lost sight of since moving to Doncaster. But in the minute that he and Mark just watched each other--neither speaking--Harry decided that he would find that part of himself again. And Mark just smiled at him before disconnecting the call--leaving Harry with his thoughts. Louis might have Zayn--but Harry had something equally amazing. Mark didn't have to say 'call whenever' or 'I'm here for you.' Harry didn't need to hear the words to know. And he was happy that Mark was still his truest, best friend--that friend you could share the world with--even have Skype sex with when you both needed to feel connected--and always come out of the experience with a stronger friendship than you came in with. In that moment, he knew he and Mark would be great friends for the rest of their lives. And he couldn't explain why, exactly-- He just knew.


	11. Skinnies & Admissions

After talking to Mark, Harry really did feel better--more in control. And after Skype sex with Mark, Harry realized he'd forgotten a few things about himself since moving here. And he was determined to change that. This town be damned. If they weren't ready for him, then fuck them. He decided he would talk to his dad, later--and let him know his plan. He'd need his support--and he was pretty sure his dad would be concerned, but on board. Harry knew two things and two things only. One--he was going to approach life in Doncaster the same way he approached life in New York--people could either either get on his page or get the fuck out of his life. And two--he was going to fight for Louis Tomlinson. And he was prepared to fight dirty, if that's what it came down to. Fuck Shelley and her band of merry twats. And fuck Zayn right along with them. But Harry knew he wouldn't be able to take Shelley down by himself--he'd need allies. And he knew exactly where to go to find them--if he'd read the situation right, that is. And he was pretty sure he had. Tomorrow at school he'd track down a few people who he thought would be willing to help him. 

And fuck the schedule change. Harry was going to make damn sure that Louis was well aware of what he was missing. Harry took a deep breath and welcomed his real self back from whatever vacation it had been on. Mark was right. He was good with his mouth--and he was adorable as fuck, when he chose to be. And Harry knew he could be an absolute menace to society--and to Louis. Hell, he could have Mr. Team Captain hard half the school day if he wanted him that way. And he did. He really, really did.

With a gleam in his eye, Harry walked over to his closet and pulled out the trunk of clothes he hadn’t opened since he arrived in Doncaster. His mom took him shopping right after they got here and upgraded his wardrobe to nicer shirts and baggier slacks and jeans. But he missed his skinnies--and right now they were exactly what he wanted. Smirking, Harry pulled open the top and dug in. When he found the tightest pair he owned, he quickly shed his clothes and worked his body into them. Tighter--much tighter--than the last time he’d had them on. But his ass looked amazing in them. And they felt great, too--hugged all the right places. Harry hung up all of his old band shirts so the wrinkles would fall out and did the same with his jeans. Buried near the bottom of the crate were his headbands. Well, they weren’t headbands, exactly--they were more like old shirts he’d turned into headbands--but whatever. He missed wearing them. He had always liked the way they pulled his hair out of his face and showed off his eyes. They worked on him, even if they didn’t work on anyone else--and he thought that Louis would like it. The few times they were intimate he’d always pull his curls out of his face, and Harry really wanted Louis to think about him in that way, so he took them all out and laid them across his computer desk. His mom was going to freak--but he was tired of dressing like everybody else--he was tired of fitting in. It was time to be himself.

That night, Harry followed his skin care routine for the first time since he’d moved here. He even cleaned his eyebrows. How did he let himself get so sloppy? He had no idea. Mark would have reminded him, of course, but here--there was no one to do any reminding, and he’d let himself get lax. No more. And when he slid a blue and white band into his hair and looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror, he knew Louis didn’t stand a chance. The skinnies would have to take some getting used to, he thought, as he slid them off and climbed under the covers. And as he drifted off to sleep, he thought about the few hours Louis had laid here beside him, sharing the most private details of his life, and then sharing himself--and Harry wanted to go back there, to that moment, and do it all over again. 

**************************************************

The next morning, Harry went for his run, showered and dressed-- and scooted his way downstairs for breakfast. He looked great--and he felt even better. For the first time he felt like himself--not an imposter. And his sister was the first to notice.

“Well, well, well….seems somebody finally decided to be himself for a change,” Gemma smiled out--taking her younger brother in. “About time, I might add.”

Harry grinned at her, grabbed his egg on toast, and started to munch down his breakfast. 

“Honey...uh...don’t you think you look a little too….well….New York?” his mother predictably stammered out--clearly not wanting to hurt his feelings, but saying it nonetheless. 

“Oh stop it mum, he looks fantastic,” Gemma rescued, always on his side. The smile on her face was exactly what he needed this morning. It reassured him in comforting way--even if he couldn’t exactly explain why. 

On their way out the door, Gemma leaned in close and gave him a rare hug. 

“Louis Tomlinson isn’t going to know what hit him,” she whispered in his ear as she glided past him and into her friends waiting car. And she threw up a wave at him before jumping in. 

Harry was glad his sister didn’t offer him a ride, like she sometimes did. He needed some time to get his thoughts in order--and the relatively short walk to school was the perfect time to do so. First, he’d work hard today--he had a test and a paper to write--and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of his four point. He’d promised his dad--and he knew that Mark would give him shit if he didn’t take care of his school work. Second, he’d track down the people he needed to talk to and decide if they could help him or not. And last, but definitely not least, he was going to annoy the absolute fuck out of Louis Tomlinson. 

As Harry walked into the school building, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. And he remembered just how much he liked it. As he walked through the halls and greeted his friends, a few raised eyebrows at him and gave him questioning looks, but no one treated him any different. Stan just rolled his eyes and smacked him on the back and mumbled something about a city boy lost in the countryside. And the girls were allowing themselves a good eye full, as well. There were more than few hair flips and flirty hellos this morning--which played perfectly into his plan. Harry never minded being the center of attention--and he stopped and talked to a few of the girls and, when he noticed that Zayn and Louis were staring at him--exchanged a few phone numbers with the prettiest ones out of the bunch. Finally, he found the two girls he’d been hoping to see. Becky and Tracy. Tequila shot girls extraordinaire. When he realized Tracy was checking him out, he excused himself from the group he was joking with and made his way over with an easy smile. And it only took a short conversation for Harry to realize he’d been a hundred percent right about the two of them.

“Don’t you look like something,” Tracy flirted out--clearly not intimidated at all. But Harry didn’t expect her to be. “Don’t you think so Becks?” 

“Hmmmm,” Becky added quietly, “Definitely. Too bad he bats for the other team.”

“True….true,” Tracy laughed out, “but he does look delicious, doesn’t he hon?”

“Oh, definitely. So tell us Styles, are you all dressed up for our benefit? Or is someone finally planning on yanking Tomlinson out of the closet and throwing Shelley Delacroix in one?”

“How about we eat lunch together today, ladies, my treat?” Harry offered--not wanting to give too much away in the hallway with half the school watching. 

“Wouldn’t miss it, would we Becks?” Tracy answered, clearly intrigued with the new promise of some excitement.

“Not even if this place was on fire,” Becky smiled out. “Can’t wait, Styles.”

And with that, the two girls sauntered off to class--together as always--through the crowded hallway. Harry was about to make his own way to class--tardiness wasn’t his thing--teachers hated it, and he wanted to stay on their good side, especially after his little unplanned vacation--when he felt someone grab his arm--hard. 

“What the fuck,” Harry questioned, pulling his arm free from the hold.

“Was about to ask you the same question, mate.” Zayn spat back at him, clearly annoyed. 

“Fuck off, Malik,” Harry smirked out as he brushed past him on his way to class. And if he added a little extra sway in his hips as he walked right past Louis--well, he really couldn’t be blamed for that, now could he?

 

********************************************************

Harry didn’t have to find the third person he need to talk to after his exam was finished. (He aced it, of course.) Stan found him.

“Harry...uh….wanna grab lunch today?” 

“Can’t, mate. Eating with Tracy and Becky.”

“Yeah...I...uh...heard,” Stan admitted, dancing from one foot to the other. He was clearly uncomfortable. “You think you could skip class then? I really need to talk to you.”

“Can’t skip, dude. Not after what happened. Can’t afford to get in trouble again. But why don’t we grab food after practice? We can talk then, if you want,” Harry added in a relaxed tone. 

“Yeah..ok. You like Chinese? I’ll have it delivered.”

Harry just nodded in assent and got his ass to class. He wasn’t lying about not affording any trouble. And it didn’t help that is lit teacher was a member of Delacroix’s church--Harry thought, rolling his eyes as he made his way into his front row seat and prepared to attentively take notes. Ms. Harper was a boring old twat--and she’d mess with him if she could--Harry was sure of it. 

***************************************************************************

When the bell rang for lunch, Harry gathered his paper and made his way towards the dining hall. Sure enough, his lunch dates were waiting for him--happy as ever. He envied them. After they picked out their food, Harry found a quiet table in the corner, and sat. He knew he was taking a risk, but he knew he didn’t really have a choice. 

“So. Have you figured it out yet?” Tracy started, eyeing him as she forked her salad. 

“Figured what out?” Harry questioned, genuinely amused. He thought he’d be the one asking the questions, not the other way around. 

“Who took those beautiful pictures of you at the Varsity party--the ones that got you suspended?” Becky supplied--even more interested than Tracy. 

“Not exactly, no. I figured it was Shelley--or she at least had something to do with it.”

Tracy and Becky had a quick conversation with their eyes--ending with Becky nodding at her friend to continue. 

“Close, Styles. Shelley did have someone take the pictures--but it wasn’t her idea, exactly. She’s really not that creative.” Tracy rolled her eyes emphasizing the point. “People give her way too much credit, if you ask me.” 

“So who put her up to it, then?” Harry wondered aloud. “Who’s idea was it to get my ass suspended?”

“Well….I don’t think it was ever supposed to go that far. I just think he wanted to have an…..uh….insurance policy--just in case.”

“He? Insurance policy? Ladies, I’m a smart guy, but I don’t have the first clue as to who or what you’re talking about,” Harry replied with a shake of his head. 

“Are you dense, mate? No offense, but you really didn’t think Zayn Malik would take a year ten to a party and introduce him to everyone without having a damn good reason why?” Tracy teased--eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Fuck.” And that was all Harry could get out. How could he be that fucking blind? Hell, Zayn wasn’t trying to be his friend...he was keeping an eye on him. 

“You get it now, Harry?” Tracy let out. 

“I think so, yeah. So how long have they been seeing each other, then?”

“Wait. What?” Becky inquired. “You’ve got it all wrong. We’re sure Zayn has like a massive thing for Louis, but Louis doesn’t see him like that. He says they are like brothers. But Zayn….he’s always been hoping Louis would change his mind, start seeing him as more than just a friend, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Tracy continued, “but we thought he’d given up. But then you moved here, and Zayn’s been off his nut. Kinda funny, actually. Watching Zayn squirm a little.”

“I really had no idea. I guess I should have...but I don’t really know Zayn at all. I mean I know he cares about him, but fuck. Why would he help Shelley?”

“You really are dense. He wasn’t helping her. He was helping himself. He thinks that if Louis is with Shelley, and miserable, I might add, that he’ll be able to sweep in and rescue him or some shit like that. But when he watched Louis fall all over himself at the Varsity party--he told Shelley to get someone to take some pictures of you just in case you started causing trouble. She bought it--fucking idiot that she is--and helped him.”

“Wow. Just wow. This place is even more fucked up than I ever imagined,” Harry yawned out, stretching his arms over his head, revealing his toned abs. He thought it was funny when he heard both girls breath hitch as he did so. Maybe he was wrong, after all. Harry shot both of them a curious glance, and leaned back in his chair and waited for the explanation. 

“Don’t look at us like that, Harry,” Tracy laughed out. “Very few people around here even suspect we’re anything but best friends--if a little weird. And we’d like to keep it that way. And you are quite fit. So just shut it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. So...I...uh...well…..to be honest, I thought I’d be the one explaining things to you, not the other way around. And I was hoping that you’d help me….how did you put it...throw Shelley Delacroix in a closet? But now, I guess she’s really not the problem. She’s just Zayn’s play toy.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, exactly. She can be a total bitch. And she’s got some claws. And her father is...well….important...around here. So she thinks that gives her power. And unfortunately, it sort of does. Don’t underestimate her. Or Zayn. He’s a sneaky little shit.”

“You seem to know him really well. And you said you’ve talked to Louis. Do you hang out?” Harry inquired, trying to get a better overall picture of what this place was really like.

“We used to,” Becky supplied. “But not since you got here. Zayn, like I said...has had his panties in a bunch since the first day you walked out onto the pitch and talked to the coaches. He was totally pissed off that Louis wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“He wouldn’t shut up about me?” Harry asked with a widening smile. “Really?”

“Duh. Louis was smitten from the start. And Zayn...well...he just got all twisted up. We called him out on it, too. Let’s just say that didn’t go so well. He asked us if we’d do body shots at the party, but we really didn’t know why. Turns out, he was hoping that you were bi, and that Louis wouldn’t want you once he knew you were into girls. But after the body shots, he knew you were gay.”

“He’s a fantastic actor,” Harry sighed out. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, well...don’t worry about it. At least you know now, and we can form a plan of attack. If you still want to, that is,” Tracy questioned secretively. “Because we’d love to help you. And Louis. We’ve both know him since we were little--and it’s about time he was able to be with someone he actually wants to be with.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Becky added, nodding her head in agreement. “If there is anything you need from us, just let us know.”

“I will. But now that I understand things a little better, I think I can take it from here.” 

“That’s cool. Just keep us informed, will ya? And we’re having a get together on Saturday. We’d like you to come. It’s just a few people, and you’d be able to relax and just be yourself.”

“Sounds amazing, actually. I’ll see if I can.” 

“Great. Just let us know so that we can...uh...plan accordingly.” And Harry really liked the hint of mischief on the girl’s faces. They reminded him of the girls in New York. Friendly, confident, and most of all, non-judgmental. He could really use some like minded friends--but Harry told himself to be cautious. He’d trusted Zayn--and look where that got him. He’d mind his p’s and q’s around these two for awhile--just in case.

******************************************************************************

Harry arrived in the training room, on time, and began setting up to wrap. It usually took the team a good ten minutes to change and make their way down, so he was surprised when he heard the door open, then close. 

"Did you have fun today, then?" Louis asked coolly--a hint of anger in his voice.

And in that second, Harry realized that even though he really wanted him, he was still very, very pissed. And the tone in Louis' voice wasn't helping--at all. 

"Yep. Got some numbers. Made some new friends. Great day." Harry chattered out as if he'd never met Louis in his life. As if Louis wasn't the most important thing in the world to him. 

"Yeah...I saw," Louis spat out. "Tracy and Becks....great choice there."

"They're alright. Pretty smart, if you ask me," Harry countered, a little softer than he intended. 

"No one ever accused those two of being smart, mate," Louis bit out. 

"What the fuck is your problem, Tomlinson?" Harry questioned harshly, turning around to finish gathering his supplies. He was two hundred percent done. But the broken sound of Louis' voice made him turn back around. 

"Harry?"

"What, Lou?" Harry sighed heavily. God his whole body ached. "What is it this time? I don't understand this place? Is that it?"

"Please....just......look...I know...."

"No," Harry interrupted, "you don't know. You really don't. But whatever. Look, if you want to be miserable with Shelley, then..."

"Fuck her." Louis spat out. "I don't even care about her."

"Then why the fuck was she cuddled up in your lap yesterday, then? For fun?"

"Christ, Harry. Give me a break here...I...."

"No. I won't give you a break. I won't. Look, Friday night was great. Really. And I meant every single thing I said to you. But clearly, you didn't. And it's fine. Either you lied or you're not ready or whatever. But I'm done hiding who I am. I'm so done."

"Clearly," Louis defended, motioning to Harry's outfit. "Clearly you don't give a shit what people think. I mean, fuck, Harry. You walk into school today looking like....like....that...and you were flirting with everyone Harry! Everyone! How do you think that made me feel, then? To have to stand there and watch that?"

"Fuck you, Louis." Harry'd never been so conflicted in his life. One part of him wanted to rush over to Louis and slam their mouths together, but the other part of him wanted to punch him in the face. 

"Harry?" Louis' soft, broken voice was back. And it affected Harry. And right now Harry really didn't want it to--but it just did--and he was powerless. Fucking powerless over his own emotions.

"You want me to stand here and imagine what it felt like for you this morning? To imagine what you went through when I got a few phone numbers and talked to a few girls, Lou? Is that it? Is that what you want me to do? Because, really. You treated me like shit yesterday, Louis. Like you didn't even know me--hell, worse than that. I had to stand there and watch you curl Shelley up in your lap and go back to eating your fucking sandwich when you knew I was hurting. You knew it--and you just ignored me, Lou. So you can go fuck yourself, Louis. OK?"

"Please...I don't want to do this. I don't. Zayn said..."

"Zayn said?" Harry almost yelled. "I don't give a flying fuck what Zayn said. Not anymore. Not after what Tracy and Becks had to say. And I have to admit that I can't believe you honestly don't know. I mean, seriously. Whatever. If you've decided to be oblivious, then so be it. Just don't go there with me anymore, Louis. Because I know the truth."

"It's not my fault!" Louis shouted--finally reaching his breaking point. 

"Not your fault? Really? So let me get this straight. It's not your fault that you ignore the fact that your best friend has feelings for you? And it's also not your fault that your best friend is the one who had those pictures taken of me? Oh...and it's not your fault that you filled out an incident report that got my ass suspended....and I almost forgot....It's clearly not your fucking fault that you have a girlfriend you say you hate but still cuddle up with in the cafeteria? Did I leave anything out, captain? Did I? Oh wait. I did. I guess it's also not your fault for treating me like complete shit yesterday, either. I think that about sums it up. What do you think?"

"You don't understand shit."

"Oh yes I do. I understand everything. I didn't before, but I do now. You're scared, Lou. You're seventeen and your scared of what would happen if you allow yourself to be happy. Take a look at yourself, Louis. A long, hard look. Your life is your own, Louis--your choices. No one else's. So stop whining and do something about how miserable you are."

Harry didn't mean for the words to come out that harshly, they just did. But the look on Louis' face was one of pure exhaustion--and pain. And the last thing Harry ever wanted to do was cause Louis pain. 

"Come here, Lou," Harry requested almost too quietly. And when Louis did, Harry thought his heart would explode in his chest. Harry carefully wrapped an arm around Louis and used his other to gently push Louis' head down onto his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"I'm sorry, too, Harry. For everything. For all of it. But I just can't do this right now. You're right. I'm scared to death. I guess I'm just not ready."

"It's OK," was all Harry could manage out--his heart shattering like glass inside him. "It's OK."

They stood like that for a few minutes, until they could hear voices making their way down the short hallway. And Harry remembered he had a job to do. Reluctantly, he pulled back and kissed Louis on the forehead, nodded, and let go. 

"Tape today, Tomlinson?" Harry asked with no feeling in it. 

"No. Not today. Ankle feels much better." 

"I thought it was your arch?" Harry answered--clearly calling him on his bullshit.

"Uh...yeah....that's better too. Look, Harry...."

"Not now, Tomlinson. Just prop the door open on your way out then, will ya?"

"Sure," Louis answered as he stepped away--refraining himself from running his hands through Harry's hair--although just barely. Harry noticed it but decided it let it pass. "You looked great today, by the way."

Harry just nodded at him--trying to keep the smile out of his eyes--but he knew Louis saw it. 

"Call me later. OK?" Louis almost whispered. "Just because I'm not ready doesn't mean I don't want us to be friends."

"Friends. Right." Harry allowed--but he wanted to say so much more. But he decided to let that pass, too. "I'm going over to Stan's for dinner, but I'll try."

Harry could see Louis battling with himself--and it was almost unbearable. But Louis would have to decide. Harry knew the decision had to come from him. Harry could flirt and get phone numbers and wear the tightest pair of jeans he had forever and ever, but if Louis couldn't find a way to deal with his head, it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. And when Louis left, Harry felt a piece of his heart go with him. Hopefully Stan would want to get drunk tonight as well as eat Chinese. And if he didn't--he'd sneak his dad's whiskey and do it all by himself.


	12. Stan-man

By the time practice was over, Harry was starving and thirsty. Looking to make good on the promise he'd made to himself, he found Stan as soon as he got dressed and nodded at him. Stan nodded back and the pair walked out to Stan's jeep. Harry's first impression of Stan was that he was the shallow sort who didn't give a fuck about his stepmother's house. But he was wrong on both counts. He was neither shallow nor inconsiderate. 

"I ordered Chinese. Good thing it was cheap--I spent my whole allowance on the party clean up."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "You paid for that on your own? Why didn't you say something? I mean I know we're not all rich like Zayn or anything, but we could have chipped in."

"Yeah...people used to, but I guess now people just take it for granted that my house is the party house. Nobody really gives a shit anymore."

"That's messed up, mate."

"Tell me about it," Stan let out as he turned out of the school parking lot. "And there's never any food in the house. My dad just leaves me money to eat on. But sometimes he forgets how long he's going to be gone and gets the amount wrong. At least that's what I tell myself. Honestly, I'm not sure he gives a fuck if I eat or not."

Harry took Stan in and reconsidered his initial character assessment. Harry always knew that there was more to people than what you see on the surface, but he didn't really expect any great reveal with Stan. 

"Are your parents back from their ski trip yet?" Harry asked, wanting to gently move the conversation into more friendly territory.

"Nope. That's why my ass is broke. They were supposed to get back last Tuesday. No call. No nothing. Typical. But it's really not that bad. I can always eat over at Zayn's if I need to, but right now that's the last place I want to be. He's being a total prick."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered more to himself than to Stan. 

Stan didn't say anything for a while, and they finished the drive in a comfortable silence that Harry really appreciated. When they got to Stan's, the delivery driver was already waiting in the driveway, so Harry paid for the food while Stan parked his jeep and unlocked the door.

"Thanks," Stan smiled, "I really could have paid for it, but I appreciate it. Saves me from having to eat at Zayn's tomorrow, anyway."

"Look," Harry started, "I know you and Zayn are friends, but why don't you want to go over? I mean, haven't you known each other for like ever?"

"I guess," Stan nodded, walking into the kitchen and setting the food down on the table, "but things have been different since you got here. He's been an asshole."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered again. He didn't want to say anything bad about Zayn, but fuck. It was the truth.

"Yeah...and especially to you. I mean, what he did with those pictures was a bitch move. And....I....uh...well, to tell you the truth, I'm sorry it happened. I wish I would have stepped in and stopped it. But I figured that Louis should have done that."

Harry froze with a fork of sweet and sour pork half way to his mouth. 

"What, Styles? You think I don't know Louis? Hell, we've been friends a hell of a lot longer than he that fucktard Malik. I've known Louis since he was undressing my action figures back when we were like three."

Harry finished his bite and watched Stan move food around on his plate--clearly thinking about what to say next. Eventually, he figured it out.

"Look, Harry. I get it. I've always known about Louis. I think he was even going to kiss me once. We were like eleven..no...twelve maybe...and playing some video game. I beat him and he tackled me--we were rolling around on the floor--and somehow that puny shit managed to pin me down. The way he looked at me, I just knew. He just flipped off real quick and made up some excuse and left. We never even talked about it. And then Zayn was like his best friend instead."

"You never talked to him about it? Ever? Not even now? He's seventeen."

"Nope. Not once. I gave up on it, actually. But I'm so sick of watching him do whatever Zayn Malik tells him to do. And that morning, after the party, I could see it on him. The way he was looking at you.....and I....uh....well, I was hoping he might actually have a shot and being happy. He broke up with Shelley and I thought he was on his way. But then Zayn fucking talked him into taking her back."

"Yeah, I get that. My lunch dates were very informative."

"I'll bet they were," Stan smirked out, finally eating his food instead of playing with it. "Those two are really something."

"I suppose so, yeah," Harry agreed in his best noncommittal tone. He promised to keep their secret.

"They didn't....uh....say anything.....you know...about me....did they?"

Harry's ears perked up at that. 

"No. Why?" 

"Well.....they're both really fucking hot...and sometimes...I...uh...we.....yeah."

"Fuck, mate," Harry choked out--grabbing his drink to wash down a stuck piece of pork. "That explains a lot."

"Yeah....so...if they ever invite you to a party...well....just be prepared. They'll try to get you into bed. But I don't think they have much hope of that, do they Styles?"

Harry took a deep breath and shrugged--not really wanting to answer just yet. He finished his plate, instead, and stretched out in his chair, waiting for Stan to do the same. 

"It's OK, Harry. I get it. You don't have to tell me," Stan said. But Harry could tell he was a little hurt. 

"No, it's alright. It's just been a hard adjustment. This town is pretty fucked up, mate. I guess I'm just trying to figure shit out. To be honest, I'm not really sure who I can trust."

"Yeah. I get that. And I want to help. But I need to know something, first."

"Shoot."

"How do you...uh...feel....about Lou?"

"To be honest, I don't really know how I feel right now. I thought I did....but too much has happened. He kind of lied to me. And then today he said he wasn't ready, so."

"Look, I don't want to get in your business or anything, but I know Louis has feelings for you. I know he wants to be with you."

"Really? And how do you know that? Because he made it pretty clear earlier today that he couldn't handle a relationship."

"Jesus, Styles. Relationship? Of course he wouldn't be ready for that. But he is ready to be with you. He wants to do everything with you."

"How on earth could you know something like that?"

"Because he told me. He came over last night and drank too much and...it just...sorta slipped out."

"I thought you said you two never talked about that stuff."

"We don't. I'm not even sure he remembers saying it. He and Zayn got into some kind of a fight, and he showed up here late and half drunk. I don't think it's right for me to tell you everything he said...you know...but he wants you. Probably more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything. To be honest, it was a little bit...uh...disturbing for me. He was very....uh...detailed?"

Harry grinned a wide grin and took Stan in. He looked pretty uncomfortable, and it was funny--so Harry decided to push him a little further.

"Really? What did he say?"

"Oh my god, please don't make me say it. You know....sex stuff....gay sex stuff. I totally don't get it, but whatever. To each his own," Stan nodded out and stood to clean up. Harry helped. "So, if you care about him, I'll help with Zayn. Everybody's sick of his shit anyway."

"Here's the thing. I can't hide who I am, and I don't want to. If Louis isn't ready, I can deal with that. I can't deal with hiding. I won't."

"That's a pretty selfish decision, don't you think?"

"Selfish? How is that selfish?"

"Well, it seems to me that you enjoy watching Louis in pain. Look, he cried for three hours straight last night. I seriously thought he'd had a mental breakdown or some shit. Just because he isn't ready to tell everyone everything about himself doesn't mean he doesn't want to make things work with you. I mean, come on. Haven't you figured this place out yet? Don't you understand what he'd be risking?"

Harry didn't say anything for the longest time, and just pondered Stan's words. He knew Louis was hurting, but he was, too. And Mark's 'follow your heart' directive kept running through his head like it was stuck on repeat. He needed to talk to Louis--if he'd even want to after the way he treated him this afternoon. Harry knew he'd been really hard on him. Hell, he'd refused to even listen to him. 

"So," Stan finally interrupted Harry's train of thought, "You wanna get drunk and play some video games?" 

"I'm sorry, Stan man, but there's some place I really need to be." 

"I'll drive you," Stan quipped, grabbing his keys on the way towards the door. "It's half a mile to Louis' house, anyways. And one more thing, Styles. Take care of him, OK? Listen to him and help him. If you do anything to hurt him or take advantage of him in any way it's not Zayn you'll have to worry about. Understand?" 

"Yeah...I understand. Is everyone in this whole town in love with Louis Tomlinson or what?" 

"Pretty much, yeah. So be good to him. Don't fuck him over, mate." 

"I could never do that. But what if he's the one that fucks me over?" 

"That's between you and Louis, mate. I guess you're just going to have to decide what you're willing to sacrifice in order to be with him. And what you're willing to put up with." 

"Yeah. I get that. The sooner we talk, the better." 

Stan parked in front of Louis' house and got out with Harry, and walked up to the door. Harry was curious as to why he didn't just drop him off, but he was sure Stan had a reason, and Harry was curious enough not to ask any questions about the reason why. He decided he'd just let Stan do the talking and watch how things played out.


	13. In honor of the 2012 Brits......

When Louis opened the door, Harry felt his pulse quicken. He'd obviously just gotten out of the shower, and his hair was still wet. He looked absolutely stunning standing there, to say nothing of how his trackies were clinging to his body--and the fact that he hadn't bothered to throw on a shirt. Harry had to remind himself to blink. Louis looked confused as he glanced from Stan, to Harry, and then back to Stan, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

"You going to invite us in then, Tomlinson?" Stan started, clearly impatient with Louis. Harry didn't mind, though. It gave him more time to stare openly at the guy before him. 

"Why?" Louis stuttered out, more out of confusion than rudeness.

"Because we need to talk."

Louis just nodded and ushered them inside, giving Harry a pleading look. It was the same look he gave him in the cafeteria the morning he found Shelley in his lap--and Harry tried to dismiss the memory and return to drooling. If only it was that easy. Harry followed Stan up to Louis' room. He hadn't lied before when he said it was more like a closet, but it was neat and cozy. He liked it, actually. And it had Louis written all over it. Small pictures of strikers and band members littered the single wall next to the small window, and the double bed was neatly made. Not much else fit inside the room, but a small stereo was stacked in one corner, next to a floor lamp not unlike the two Harry had in his own room. Harry noticed how small Louis' closet was, and wondered where he kept the rest of his clothes, only to quickly realize Louis wore basically the same version of outfits every day--and usually ran around in trackies or his football practice clothes when he could. He could tell Louis was nervous having him here, like he couldn't decide if it was a good idea or not. Harry quietly wondered if he was embarrassed--and hoped that he wasn't.

"So...uh...what are you doing here, Stan?" Louis questioned nervously. 

"Well, me and Harry here had a little talk, and I think it's time you and I did the same."

"Look, I don't know what he's been telling you, but I can..."

"Save it, Lou," Stan interrupted. "Harry here didn't tell me shit. And he didn't need to, either. I've known since you were three, and I think it's time we talked."

"I don't know what you're..."

"Come off it, Louis. Please. It's me...you know...Stan Lucas....the same kid you've known since before you could walk? What is it with you? I get it. I know, Louis. So can't we just get it out in the open and move past this?"

Louis sat down on his bed, stunned--and at a loss for words. Harry wanted to sit down next to him and hold him, but something told him to let Stan finish first, then see what happened. He knew that his was difficult for Louis, but it was something he'd have to do on his own. In fact, Harry felt like he was intruding on something the two of them should be discussing by themselves. With that in mind, he made his way over to the door, intending to leave, but Stan had other ideas.

"Where do you think you're going then?" Stan questioned in Harry's direction. "Is this really too much for the both of you? I'm the one that's supposed to be freaking out here, not you two."

Harry made his way over to Louis and touched his cheek with his thumb, encouraging Louis to look up at him. When he did his eyes were as damp as his hair. 

"Can I sit, Lou?" Harry asked softly. 

Louis just nodded, so Harry sat down next to him, scooted back so that his back was up against the wall, and pulled Louis up next to him. Harry was shocked when Louis turned into him and laid his cheek on his chest. Stan watched--as if in a trance--as Harry wrapped Louis up and held him as he cried softly into his shirt. 

"Man....I really had no idea," Stan mumbled out. "Louis?"

Louis looked up at his long time friend and Harry could feel him shake. 

"So this is me." Louis whispered out. "This is who I am."

"I know. I guess I've always known. And I'm sorry I didn't make this easier for you. But now that I know, can we please just go back to the way things used to be? I miss my best friend, mate."

Louis finally relaxed a bit and nodded sheepishly up at Stan, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. 

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I'm going home. I'm tired, and as much as I accept this, Lou, and as much as I like Harry here, I definitely don't want to see what happens next," Stan quipped out with a grin. "Baby steps on that one, I think. But please don't think that means I'm judging either of you, it just means I'm not ready to see it yet."

Louis sat up, scooted off the bed and walked over and hugged Stan--and Stan hugged back--hard, and for quite a while, too. 

"I love you, man," Louis mumbled out, still too choked up to form real words.

"I love you, too, Louis. I do. Now get your shit together and be happy. You deserve to be happy after all you've put up with your whole life. And if you don't go straight up to Shelley and tell her to piss off, I'm going to fucking punch you myself. And as for Zayn, you leave that twat to me. I'll handle him--so don't worry about that, either. For once in your life, do something selfish, Louis. Make yourself happy."

Louis finally let go and took a hard look at Stan. 

"You think I can?"

"I know it, mate. And if Styles here ever treats you bad you let me know. He knows he has to answer to me if he does. Ain't that right, Harry?"

"Absolutely," Harry called back, surprised at the echo in the small space. 

"Now you two do something stupid and reckless while I go get some sleep. You two are stressing me out."

And with that, Stan left the two of them alone behind the closed door of Louis' closet of a bedroom.

"I never expected that to happen," Louis sighed out, climbing back on the bed next to Harry, "not in a million years."

"But it's good, right? That he knows?"

Louis thought about it longer than Harry liked, but he eventually shrugged out his answer. 

"Yeah. It's good. I just don't know where it's coming from. Stan's always been an uptight kind of guy."

"Well, I guess Tracy and Becks helped with that," Harry laughed out. 

"He told you about that?"

"Yeah. Said the three of them...uh...yeah."

"Wow. Maybe he really is starting to see things differently. I really thought he'd freak out if I ever told him."

"Louis, he said he's known forever. Said you used to undress his action figures."

"What the fuck, Harry? I did not."

"Oh, I have a feeling you did," Harry smiled out. "Plus, it's kinda hot."

"It's not hot, I was like three!"

"Ah ha! So you admit it!" Harry teased out, grabbing Louis and pulling him close. 

"Fuck off, Harry!" Louis laughed out, eyes crinkling.

"Uh huh. Sure. You know...you can pretend I'm an action figure...if you want. Now that would be hot," Harry laughed out, intending to prolong the joke. But he quickly realized that Louis was no longer laughing, and was staring at him instead.

"Fuck. Really?" Louis questioned quietly as his eyes darkened and his cheeks pinked up.

"Definitely," Harry responded breathlessly--quickly catching on to Louis' mood. Fuck he was gone over this boy. "Louis...are you're sisters home? Is your mom here?"

"Yep. Everyone's downstairs watching a movie."

"Oh," Harry sighed. "Then I guess we should keep ourselves under..."

"I can be quiet," Louis interrupted seriously. "Can you?"

"Depends," Harry answered honestly, heat pooling in his groin. Soon he'd be past the point of hiding his arousal. 

"On what?" Louis whispered playfully--somehow feeling the need to show just how quiet he could be.

"On what you plan on doing to me." Harry whispered back, his green eyes filling with black. "Because I really want you to do what you want, Louis." 

"Can I kiss you?"

"I'd love for you to. Come lay down next to me, Lou."

Louis followed Harry's instructions, and before Harry even knew what hit him, Louis was wrapped around him, and kissing him senseless. Whatever restraint Louis had used to hold back before, was gone now. He was a giving kisser. This night he kissed with a kind of passion Harry'd never felt before. Louis wasn't holding back, and neither was Harry--and before long, hands began to wander along with tongues. 

"Take this shirt off...Harry...please," Louis begged out, "I want to feel your skin on my skin. Need it."

Harry took a short few seconds and pulled off his shirt and shifted back down next to Louis, but Louis had something else in mind. Right when Harry laid back down, Louis pushed on his shoulder and crawled on top of him, pressing their chests together as he tugged Harry's headband out of his hair and twisted his fingers into his now loose curls. 

"Fuck," Harry let out quietly. "Just...please...press down on me....yeah....like that."

Louis started a slow grind that Harry was immediately impressed with. The look on his face must have said as much, if the smug look on Louis' face was anything to go on. 

"Do you like that? Louis questioned just above a whisper. "Does it feel good?"

"Yeah, Lou. Just...."

Harry shifted a bit so that the friction would be more satisfying, and moaned back into Louis' open mouth. And when Louis felt the change, a moan of his own echoed quietly through the small room. And then Louis did something that Harry wasn't expecting--at all. He reached down between them and unbuttoned the top of Harry's jeans and worked his zipper down. And Harry thought he'd lose his mind as Louis started a slow, soft tug at the waist of his jeans, clearly wanting them pushed down. When Harry stopped his slow upward grind, Louis looked down at him with pleading eyes--and Harry had to ask--had to be sure.

"Louis?"

"Yeah, Harry. Want to. Can I?"

"You sure, Lou?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Now help me..." Louis softly requested as he went back to work on Harry's skinnies. "Please..."

Harry lifted up his hips and tugged his jeans down and over his bum--and waited for Louis to do the rest. And he did. And he only paused a few seconds when he realized Harry wasn't wearing any pants. And when Louis settled himself between Harry's legs and looked up at him--seeking permission through crystal blue eyes-- Harry nearly lost it. Pulling himself together, Harry sat up and caressed a thumb across Louis cheek, giving Louis a chance to reconsider--but when he didn't, Harry leaned back on his elbows and nodded his head at him encouragingly. And when Louis licked his lips, Harry had to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath. When he opened them again, Louis was looking back at him with a softness he'd never seen before. 

"Lou?" Harry questioned quietly, eyes never leaving him. 

Louis face widened into a smile as he licked across his palm and started a tentative stroke. And Harry realized that Louis had learned that from him--and it was a turn on like no other. Fuck. And when Louis realized just how much his hand was affecting Harry, his stroke became less tentative and more fulfilling. So fulfilling, in fact, that Harry once again closed his eyes and leaned his head back to enjoy the feeling of Louis' small hand working him over. After a minute or so, Harry thought Louis would finish him off like that--and he would have never for a second complained, but once again, Louis surprised him. And his eyes shot open the second he felt Louis' hot breath ghost over him. When Harry looked back down, he felt like he was in a dream. Louis' delicate fingers were wrapped tightly around him, stroking the lower half of his cock, as his open mouth hovered just over his head. Harry could tell Louis was trying to decide what to do--that he was thinking too much about what came next. And just when Harry was going to give him a little direction, Louis figured it out on his own. Harry watched in amazement as Louis licked across the head of his cock a few times, and then took him in his mouth--just holding him inside, getting used to the feel of it. And Harry seriously worried about how long he could last. Watching Louis experiment with his cock was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen--and it felt beyond amazing. Soon, Louis began to take him farther into his mouth with less and less caution. And when he actually hollowed his cheeks and sucked back to the top, Harry shivered in anticipation. He was quickly losing control, and when Louis used his other hand and tickled across his swells, Harry reached down and tugged through Louis' hair in warning. 

"I'm close," Harry breathed out. "So amazing, Lou." 

Louis either didn't hear him, or decided that he didn't care, and kept lowering his head and sucking back up with a nice, if inexperienced, rhythm--but it was more than enough to get Harry there. 

"Louis," Harry barely got out before his body tensed and he released just as Louis was about to work his way back down. After the initial wave of pleasure, Harry fought hard to open his eyes and watch Louis take his come. Harry knew the initial spurt went inside his mouth--and he was a little concerned about that. But there was really no reason to be. Even though Louis had used his hand to work Harry through the rest of his orgasm, there was still some of him smattered across Louis' swollen lips--and Harry thought he'd get hard again at the sight. And when Louis licked his lips clean, Harry actually did feel heat pool up inside him once again. 

"Fuck, Lou," Harry breathed out, as he forced himself to sit up and run a thumb across his red cheek. "Come here so I can kiss you." 

Louis crawled back up and Harry got a good taste of himself as he opened up. After a few minutes, it was Harry's turn to reach between them--but he didn't have buttons to deal with--and his hand slid smoothly inside Louis' trackies. 

"Wanna get you off," Harry asked, as his fist began its work. "Can I?" 

"Please...yes....fuck," was all Louis could get out. And it only took a few seconds before he was spilling across Harry's hand. 

Harry wasn't sure how long they laid there on Louis' small bed, holding on to each other. And he didn't really care. And he didn't much feel like talking about anything in this moment, either. He felt content and happy and cared for. More than that, even, but he'd have to give that some more thought. Eventually, Louis stirred and grimaced at the mess he'd made. Reluctantly, Harry rolled over, and helped clean them both up. And by the time they were both presentable and able to speak, neither of them could contain their smiles. 

"Louis...that was.....so amazing. You're amazing." 

"Yeah? I was so nervous that I'd mess it up." 

"No....you did great. Really." 

"Well, I had an excellent teacher, then. But I don't know if I'll ever be able to do what you do." 

"You will....if you want to." Harry answered carefully. "If you love it." 

Louis thought about that for a bit, and then nodded--more to himself than to Harry. 

"I love how you taste...and how you feel in my mouth....and I want to do it again. Yeah...I could love it...when I get better at it, I think." 

Harry just smiled and leaned in to give Louis a sweet peck on the lips. 

"We'll see," Harry teased, eyes shining. God he was happy. 

"Do you want to talk now?" Louis asked hesitantly. 

"No, not really," Harry answered calmly as he stood up and pulled Louis into him. "I just want to be here with you. No worries. No drama. Just you and me." 

"You can do that? We can just be together...like this...and that would be good enough?" 

"I want to be with you. So yeah....if we have to keep things between us until you're ready....I can do that." 

"You sure?" 

"I'm sure," Harry smiled out--his heart swelling up in his chest. "But Shelley...." 

"Done," Louis interrupted before Harry even had to explain. "But Zayn will be right pissed." 

"Let him. If he loves you like I think he does, he'll come around once he sees how happy you are." 

"We'll see." Louis laughed out, pulling Harry in tighter. 

Harry and Louis tooled around his small room for an hour or so--listening to music and enjoying each other's company-- before he drove Harry home. And if they spent thirty minutes parked in Harry's driveway with their hands down each other's pants...well. That was between them. And Harry was fine with that. Just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....Harry's gettin' head! This was fun to write! I hope you enjoyed it :)


	14. Louis

For Harry, the weekend couldn't come soon enough. The five weeks since he and Louis last spent any quality alone time together had been a slow torture. Especially since Louis had found that he did, in fact, need his ankles taped and his calves stretched every day before practice--not just before games. Harry secretly wondered if Louis knew what he was doing to him, if it was planned. For more than a month now they'd spent time together nearly every night--talking and studying. Sometimes they would listen to music and just chill. But the brief good night kisses just weren't enough for Harry after Louis had had has his mouth on him. If he wasn't careful, Harry thought through gritted teeth, Louis was going to have way more than he could handle on Sunday. And it's not like Louis hadn't been dropping hints, either. A knowing look here, a fleeting touch there, even an arch of the hips when Harry'd dig deep into his calves. Fuck. Harry definitely had to find a way to keep himself under control. But honestly, being around Louis Tomlinson, and not actually being able to touch him--hell, that should be illegal. Nearly six weeks of flirting and quick pecks good night just weren't cutting it--and Harry'd never been so sexually frustrated in his life. Two nights ago Harry'd purposely let his hands slide down the back of Louis' jeans--but Louis was having none of it. He just moved them back up--and kissed his cheek--and whispered a quick bye into his ear before pulling away with a quiet smirk. Christ. A part of Harry wanted to get Louis naked and see how far he could take him. A very big part. And as he walked home--carrying a ton of work that he had to get done by tomorrow--he silently wondered just how far Louis would allow him to go.

When he got home, the house was already empty. Which was a good thing, considering he was half hard from thinking about Louis. His sister was on another college trip--hopefully a good one, this time. And he was free until Monday afternoon. Not one to put off the inevitable, Harry ignored his cock, and dumped his books out onto the kitchen table and started to organize his stacks, then his tasks--eventually prioritizing everything the way Mark had showed him. And by eight that evening, he'd made a considerable dent in his workload. Good thing, too, because just as he was getting up to make himself something to eat, the doorbell rang. Reluctantly putting off food, Harry walked to the door and opened it, only to find a very upset ex-girlfriend of one Louis Tomlinson. 

"Uh....Shelley? What are you doing here?" Harry questioned, trying to sound civil. I mean the girl was crying.

"Is it true, then? Is it? Is he gay?" Shelley blurted out through sniffles.

"Why don't you come inside, OK? And I'll call Lou."

"Lou, is it? So it is true. Zayn was telling the truth. There's something going on between you two," Shelley questioned accusingly. And Harry didn't like that--not even a little bit. Where did she come off--sounding like this in his own fucking house?

"Shelley, to be honest, that's none of your business. And I'd never discuss Louis with you. Never. So you can go back to wherever you came from, cause there's nothing for you here."

"Fine, Harry. Be that way. I'll just go have a little talk with his mother, then." Shelley threatened as she turned on her heels and scampered out the door. Harry fucking hated her. And he was on the phone with Louis before the front door slammed shut.

"Louis. Uh....I think...well....is your mom home?"

"Harry? Yeah, she's here. Just got in from work. You OK? You sound like you've been fighting for your life or something." Louis asked tentatively. 

"Look. Shelley just showed up at my house--asking about you and me," Harry continued.

"What the fuck? What did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her anything. I told her that she could come in and I'd call you. Then she said Zayn was right and got pissed off when I told her I wasn't going to talk to her."

"Fuck her. I don't give a shit about anything she has to..."

"Louis," Harry interrupted, "she said she was going to go talk to your mom."

"My mom? She said that?"

"Yeah. She did. She just left here--and she was really upset."

"Wait...if she's already left your house, then she'd be here like.....fuck, Harry. She's already here. I'll call you back."

Louis practically ran downstairs, but his mother had already answered the door and was staring at Shelley Delacroix like she was a demon from hell. And maybe she was. 

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Louis heard his mother ask in as serious a tone as he'd ever heard from her.

"I said you're son is gay! He's gay and having a relationship with Harry Styles. Zayn said so!"

"Shelley, what the hell, get the fuck out of my house," Louis cut in, shoving past his mother and right into his ex's face. "You have no business being here. None. So just fucking leave."

"Fine. I'll leave. I just thought your mother should know what you are, Louis. And who you're spending your time with."

"You look here, you insolent twat. My son is right--you need to leave. Now. And as for what my son is, I don't think you can tell me anything about that. Now kindly get back in your car and go, before I..."

"Before you what? Before you call my father? What do you think he's going to think once I tell him about this, huh? I'm pretty sure your family won't be able to even walk back into church, that's what I think. And I'd watch him, if I were you." 

"Get the fuck out of my house! Now!" Louis mother exploded. She was absolutely done. And Shelley knew it. 

"Already gone. Trust me," Shelley sing-songed as she made her way down the short walk to her waiting car. "And I won't be back."

"Good." Johanna called after her. "And good riddance!"

Louis felt like he was falling. This was it. His life was over. Once Shelley got back to school, hell even before that, everyone would know. Everyone. His teachers. His teammates. Everyone. And when his mother finally got him up off the floor and into a chair, he was silently crying into his arms. But then something amazing happened that made everything better. Harry Styles threw open his front door and ran to him--actually ran--and wrapped him up so tight that no pain could ever get in--and he did it all right in front of his mother. 

"So I take it you're Harry, then?" Johanna asked quietly, taking in the sight before her. 

Harry looked up at her and nodded, grabbed a napkin from off the counter and helped to clean Louis up. He was a mess. 

"Well, it's nice to meet you, finally. I'll just be outside in the backyard. You two come out when you're ready. I guess we've got a lot to talk about, then, don't we?"

Harry just nodded again and went back to helping Louis. And he knew--absolutely knew--beyond any doubt--that he was in love. He'd never felt the pain of another person so deeply before. He'd never wished he could give up his life just to take away the pain of another's. Harry pulled Louis down on the floor with him and wrapped him up in his lap and rocked him as he cried. And as he stroked Louis' hair and whispered words that were only meant to be said out loud when you were in love, Harry knew he'd walk through fire for the boy in his lap. And, as Louis finally regained himself, he knew he might have to do exactly that. 

"Lou?" Harry mumbled into his hair. 

"Haz?" Louis responded, eyes puffy and red. 

"Hmmm, I like that. Haz. It's nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sweet."

"You came. You came here."

"Of course I did, love. I got here as fast as I could."

"You ran?"

"Yes."

"You ran to me?"

"Of course I did."

"Why? You didn't have to."

"I know. But there was no way I wasn't going to come, Lou. No way."

"You weren't afraid?"

"No. Nothing could ever scare me enough to keep me away from you. I'm all in, Lou."

Louis just let Harry hold him for a while longer--and Harry had zero problem with that. In fact, it felt amazing to hold Louis so openly. Eventually, he felt Louis shift in his arms and straighten up. 

"Harry? I need to go talk to my mom. Will you stay here...at my house...until I'm done?" 

"Of course," Harry soothed, still stroking the fine hairs along Louis' neck, "whatever you need." 

"Harry?" 

"Yes, love?" 

And Harry felt like he would melt into a puddle as Louis snuggled in closer at the endearment. He meant it, after all. 

"I won't be able to do this without you," Louis whispered. And Harry was taken aback by just how small his voice sounded. 

"I'm here, Lou. Not going anywhere." 

"Promise?" 

"Yes. I promise." 

"Before I go out there, I want you to know that I'm scared to death right now." 

"It's OK to be scared Lou. But I've got you." 

Harry felt Louis shift in his lap as he shifted impossibly closer to him. 

"How do you do it?" Louis asked quietly--his finger's drifting softly across Harry's cheek. "How do you tell your mother that you're in love with another guy?" 

At first, Harry missed it. But then he felt Louis' soft lips on the side of his cheek, and finally felt the weight of Louis in his lap. And it was Harry's turn to feel like he was falling. As his breath left him, he felt his own eyes water up--and he knew--for the first time in his life--what being in love felt like. He loved his family, sure...but this was so much more. He couldn't think--hell, he couldn't even move. So he stayed there and held Louis close. And when Harry felt more than saw Louis look up at him, he realized he'd given himself over to the moment--just being in it for once--instead of analyzing it. And it was amazing. A small part of him wondered if he would feel the same when Louis opened him up and filled him. He hoped he would. Instead of speaking, Harry shifted Louis in his lap and brought their lips together in a sweet kiss--a kiss that promised everything. 

"I just wanted you to know, first," Louis spoke when they finally separated. "Before I told my mom." 

Harry could feel Louis shake slightly in his arms, and he wondered if he was afraid. He could have said it back. He wanted to--he wanted everything. But he thought that right now Louis needed him to show him love--not tell him. And Harry could do that. 

"Lou? You ready, then?" 

"I don't really know. I've thought about doing this for a while now, but I thought I'd get to do it on my own terms." Louis replied, shaking his head. Harry could see Louis coming back to himself a bit more--and he thought that was good. "You got any advice for me, Haz?" 

Harry smiled at the new nickname. He really did like it. It damn near stopped his heart, in fact. "Just be honest, Lou. And get it all out. She's ready to listen--so let her." 

Louis just smiled nervously and stretched his way out of Harry's lap and up onto his feet, extending a hand to Harry. Once on his feet, Harry walked over to the sink and wet some paper towels with which to clean Louis up a bit. And in that moment, Harry saw Louis for the first time. He'd seen glimpses of the unguarded Louis he craved to know so badly. He'd seen it on the training table the first time they were together, and then again in his room on Titanic night--but only small peeks. As Louis stood compliant and allowed Harry to clean him--care for him--maybe even baby him a bit--all his guards were down. All his defenses off. And by the time Harry'd wet his hands and ran them through Louis' hair--arranging it just so--Louis was looking at him through a different set of eyes than Harry'd ever seen. They were still perfectly blue--but now there was wonderment in them--and Harry swore he could see into Louis' soul. After Harry finished his task, he gave Louis a quick peck on his temple and nodded toward the back door. 

"Go on, now. I think your mom's waited long enough," Harry grinned out--amazed by the person standing in front of him. 

Louis just nodded back at him, took a very deep breath, and walked outside.

**********************************************************************************************************


	15. The one where Louis talks to his mum

"Mum?" Louis questioned softly as he walked out the back door--leaving Harry to find his way up to his room. 

"Son?" Johanna answered back just as softly. 

Louis didn't respond. He simply walked over to the chair next to his mother and sat. He had to admit that he was still an emotional mess--and it was only bound to get worse. Louis sat in the free chair and curled in on himself, hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knees--and waited. Why did he tell Harry to go upstairs? He should have asked him to come out with him--it would have made this a whole lot easier. No, he thought patiently. This was something he had to do by himself. He could--and would--rely on Harry Styles for a while, he thought. But this--he had to do alone. This was between mother and son. 

"Harry seems really nice," Johanna started--sensing her son was a wreck. "I can tell he really cares about you."

"You think so?" Louis responded cautiously--still feeling out the situation, and his mother. 

"Sure. I mean, any boy that will clean up snot, has to be special," Johanna said with a half smile--but her tone was still tense. 

Louis curled further in on himself at his mother's remarks. 

"Yeah...he's...uh...one of a kind," Louis allowed--peeking up at his mom--trying to read her.

"I can see that," she replied, lifting her eyes to take in her son. "He must be."

Louis blushed at his mother's intuition. "Yeah...definitely." 

"So," Johanna questioned through a deep sigh.

"So," Louis replied. 

"Is he the one, then?" 

"I sure hope so. I'm risking everything for him," Louis allowed under his held breath. 

"Sometimes love requires risk," his mother answered cautiously. "Never be afraid to take risks, Louis. Especially in love."

"But this place, mom....this town...I don't know..."

"Louis, listen to me," Johanna started with a seriousness about her that Louis so rarely saw, "this town is just one small place in a wide, wide world. I always thought that was a good thing, up until you turned three or four. And then this place scared me to death. But you seemed to always have everything under control. You always had yourself under control."

"Not really," Louis responded honestly. "I've been pretty miserable, actually."

"Louis, honey, the last thing I would ever want is for you to be in pain, but are you sure this is the right time for you to do this? Are you sure it's the right choice for you?"

"Not a choice," Louis replied in his matter of fact tone. "It's who I am. And...well, to be honest, I'm in love with him."

"Love? You're in love?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Are you sure, Louis? I mean, you were with Shelley for a while, and there's been other..." 

"Mum," Louis interrupted, looking at his mother hard. "I didn't love Shelley. Sometimes I wonder if I even liked her. And we didn't...uh...do the things...that everyone else does." 

Johanna just smiled over at her son, taking him in. It had been a long time since they'd had this kind of talk, but she was happy it was finally happening--even if it was...challenging. 

"So....are you telling me that you're...well....what exactly are you telling me?" Johanna knew exactly what Louis was saying. She'd known since he was a kid...but after he started dating girls, she thought maybe she'd figured it wrong. "Are you gay, son?" 

"Yes. But you've always known that, right? I mean, mother's intuition and stuff like that. To be honest, I really don't know how anyone could have missed it...especially the past few months since Harry's moved here. God, mum...I can't even explain it to you. But when I'm with him...it's like the whole world is different. It's like I've been living in a black and white world my whole life and now....with Harry....I see everything in color, mum. Bright and beautiful and....and...alive." 

"That's a little dramatic, Louis...don't you think?" Johanna teased out--but her half smile gave her away. 

"I guess...but I don't care. I'm happy, mum. For the first time in my life I want to be with the person sitting next to me. For the first time I don't have to fake anything with the person I'm with. And Harry...he's amazing." 

"Amazing. But how long have you known him, Louis? It can't be more than a couple of months. I know you've been spending a lot of time together--but I always assumed you'd do this once you were away at college--once you were out of here. Do you realize how hard it's going to be, son? Do you realize how much you are going to have to sacrifice? Do you think it's fair that this boy....uh....Harry...has put this much pressure on you?"

"Mum, it's not like that. It's not Harry. It's me. Harry hasn't told a soul about me...about us. Zayn's the one, mom....not Harry. And Shelley. I guess she just doesn't understand," Louis replied, "and when she gets home, she's going to tell everyone."

"Probably. But what do you expect from her, Louis?"

"Common decency?" Louis offered, but not with any real conviction. He knew Shelley was probably incapable of showing anything remotely similar to decency. Fuck. 

His mother didn't reply for the longest time--and the two of them just sat outside in the dark--and gathered their thoughts. It was Johanna that broke the silence.

"I love you, Louis. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do, mum. Of course. But I'm going to need your help. I know you've got your hands full with the girls and work...and I know you don't need another thing, but I'm going to need you."

Louis held his breath as his mother thought longer than he would have liked. She was always so practical--examining every side of an issue--picking it apart and approaching every situation like a puzzle to be solved. 

"Of course, my darling. When have I not been there for you? But don't think it's going to be easy, son. It's not, you know."

"I know," Louis responded weakly, "but I know Harry will be there for me, too. He will. He won't let me go through this by myself."

"Oh, I can see that," Johanna laughed out, lightening the mood. "He's something else, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He's great. I can't wait for you to get to know him," Louis smiled. It still amazed him that just talking about Harry could make him feel so secure--and loved--even if Harry hadn't said it back yet. Louis was pretty sure that Harry felt the same way. 

"Well I want to get to know him, then. And I want to meet his parents, Louis," his mother chided out in her typical control-freak voice. He'd grown accustomed to it over his childhood--but he wasn't a child anymore. 

"Sure. We'll arrange a dinner or summat," Louis grinned out. 

"You know," Johanna pondered, "tomorrow the girls will be leaving to spend to time with their grandparents. And I think I'm going to go into London and visit some friends. You think you can find a place to stay tonight and tomorrow? Just relax and get your thoughts in order?"

"Uh....yeah...I think I can do that. I was supposed to stay over at Harry's on Sunday, anyway....uh....if that's alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be, then?" Johanna warned--eyeing her son. "God, Louis....I really don't know how to have "the talk" with you about this. I don't have the first clue. Just promise me that you'll remember all the things I said when you turned fifteen?"

"Got it, mom," Louis mumbled out, embarrassed. "And thanks."

"No problem," Johanna smiled out. "Just make sure, Louis. Make sure you're both on the same page, OK?"

"I promise. And don't worry, we are. He's been really patient with everything, mom. He's a great guy."

"Patient, huh. You're older, Louis," his mother chided. "And I expect you to act accordingly."

It was Louis' turn to laugh--and it made him feel better. His mother had absolutely no idea of the dynamics of their relationship--and that's what it was, now. A relationship. The past six weeks had been an amazing time for Louis. He loved the hours he'd spent just getting to know Harry. He loved listening to music with him--hearing stories about his family and what his life was like as a kid growing up in New York. He loved it when Harry'd talk about his failed attempts at playing football--and he didn't even feel jealous when he'd talk about Mark. He understood, now, the nature of the friendship--and he marveled at how it worked. They had no secrets--no judgments. And Louis thought that was brilliant. And he also knew that Harry wanted him--wanted him in every way--but a part of him was still holding that back. He'd had--well--attempted--meaningless sex--and it did nothing for him. And he knew that sex with Harry would be....intense. So he was taking his time with it. Louis grinned to himself as he thought about how patient Harry'd been over the past month and a half. And that grin widened into a smile when he thought about the look on Harry's face when he moved Harry's hands off his hips and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek goodnight. But the truth is that he wanted Harry as much as Harry wanted him. He just wasn't sure how he wanted him. Over the past six weeks, his dreams were filled with Harry--but not in the way he'd thought they'd be. After Titanic, Louis thought he'd want to be the one to top--but his dreams had other ideas. In those, he was always under Harry--eyes glued to each other--as Harry pressed into him. He'd woken up with wet sheets on more than one occasion--and it still kind of freaked him out. But he liked the idea of Harry filling him. And he knew he was in love. Louis knew he'd made his decision--and he wondered if Harry was ready, too. Hell, he didn't think he could wait any longer--not even with all the shit that was going on.

Louis was till thinking about what it'd feel like to be underneath Harry when he mother stood up, scraping the plastic chair along the cement patio. 

"Well then. Why don't you go up and check on Harry? He's been up there by himself for a while."

"I guess he has," Louis replied, shaking his head. Harry really was amazing. "And if you don't mind....I...uh...think we'll head over to his. Maybe watch a movie."

"Movie. Right. Just remember what I said," Johanna responded with a tone that let Louis know he wasn't fooling her. 

Louis had never been able to pull one over on his mother--ever. Why on earth did he think he could start now?

**********************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost done. Will have it out quick...probably a day or two. :) :) :)


	16. The caped crusader rides again....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.....

Louis watched his mother go inside, but sat in his chair, alone, for a few minutes more--thinking. After a while, he realized that he was trying to make a decision alone, when he didn't really have to. And probably shouldn't. With a smile, he hopped up and made his way to his room. Harry was curled up on his bed listening to The Fray when Louis opened the door. And the sight took his breath away. But that was nothing new--really. But Louis was in a different state of mind right now--and he wanted Harry in the same one as soon as possible. And when Louis closed the door behind him, Harry looked up at him with expectant eyes. 

"How'd it go? You alright, Lou?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Louis responded, making his way over to his bed. He stopped at the edge and stared down at Harry. "My mum's pretty great. She made it really easy for me."

"I'm glad to hear that," Harry smiled up. God he looked sexy standing there. "You wanna talk?"

"Yes. But not about Shelley or school or any of the bullshit that's bound to happen when we get back."

"Ok," Harry smirked up, "so what is it you want to talk about then?"

"Lots of things...but...uh...can we go to yours?" Louis asked, his body twisting up on its own accord. God, he could barely breathe--barely form words. And he knew Harry saw it--felt it.

"Louis? You alright there?" Harry teased out--sitting up so that he could take Louis in. Fuck--Harry thought--and he might have even whispered it out loud as he stood up and closed the distance between them. And when he felt Louis' body jerk when he touched his shoulder, he knew. He watched as Louis swallowed--hard--and grab the sides of his shirt to keep himself grounded. Harry thought Louis might actually jump on top of him--and the thought excited him beyond belief--but after the last six weeks--there was a part of him that wanted to tease just a bit. See how worked up he could get Louis before he couldn't take anymore--and finally asked for what he wanted. 

"No...I'm not alright...not in the slightest," Louis answered breathlessly. And Louis thought that nothing else in the world mattered so long as Harry kept touching him. Had his hands on him. Wanted him. 

"What's wrong, love?" Harry questioned in his sincerest voice--brushing his fingers down Louis shoulder--over his pecs--and across his nipple. It was just a tease, really--but Louis curled into it anyway. "You need something?"

Louis just nodded at him--and as Harry brushed across his other nipple, Louis' mouth fell open in invitation. But Harry wasn't quite satisfied yet. Removing his hands, Harry stepped back, gathered his things, and walked out of the room--leaving Louis no choice but to follow. And after a few seconds of processing time, Louis practically fell over himself as he gathered what he'd need and made his way outside to find Harry Styles leaning up against the front porch post. Fuck, he was in serious trouble. And in that moment, Louis realized that he'd let Harry do anything he wanted to him--hell, he'd probably beg him to. But Harry was just smiling at him--and he wanted to change that. He wanted to drop to his knees and rub and lick and suck that smile right off his face. 

"Let's walk, Lou," Harry called out happily as he made his way off the porch and toward the sidewalk he'd run down a couple hours ago. "It's not that far."

"Walk? Why? The car's right here, Haz...and..."

"Walk, Lou," Harry interrupted--trying not to show just how much the new endearment affected him--well...not yet, anyway. And when Harry held out is hand to him, he wasn't surprised in the slightest when Louis took it. 

They walked in silence for a block or so, and Harry could swear he could feel Louis' heartbeat through his hand. He could definitely hear his shallow breaths. About halfway there, Harry sighed deeply and pulled Louis into a comfortable hug.

"Relax, Lou," Harry breathed into his ear as he pulled his fingers through the back of his now longer hair. "Just breathe." 

"Can't," Louis whispered back--pulling Harry a little closer. 

"Can," Harry offered, letting his hands wander down to Louis' hips. He was going to seriously fuck this boy up. In every way he'd allow him to, and maybe even in some ways he wouldn't see coming. "Besides...we've still got a few blocks to walk."

Harry chuckled softly at the soft whimper Louis made when Harry let go of him and started to walk again. And Harry decided that his mission over the next two days would be to get Louis to make that sound as often as possible. 

"Harry? Can we...uh...walk a little faster?" Louis breathed out--eyes wide--palms starting to sweat. 

"But it's such a nice night...."

"Harry!" Louis interrupted. "Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?"

Harry didn't respond--and he didn't quicken his pace--he just took his time and let Louis think about things as they finished the few remaining blocks. When they finally walked up Harry's steps to the front door, Louis was practically shaking. 

"You know, I think I forgot my key...."

"Harry....enough already," Louis practically yelled--eyes wide.

"Oh...never mind...here it is," Harry teased out calmly--as he took his time opening the door. Once inside, Louis looked absolutely lost. He was completely off balance--didn't know where to stand--how to walk, even. And that's exactly how Harry wanted him. 

"Come on, Lou. Let's get something to drink," Harry offered, making his way to the kitchen. "And maybe a snack. Fruit?"

"Uh....sure?" Louis responded, clearly confused, and so, so.....needy. Yes, that's what he was. This new feeling was need. He'd never needed anything in his life--but he needed this. Needed Harry. 

"Patience, Lou," Harry sang over his shoulder, making his way to the fridge and grabbing some juice and fruit. "Have a seat at the table...and just....chill for a minute."

Louis tried to follow his instructions, he really did. The sitting part was easy enough--but he couldn't quite catch his breath, no matter how hard he tried. The sight of Harry walking calmly around the kitchen, gathering plates and glasses, was too much for Louis. Everything was too much for Louis right now, to be honest. But he did as instructed, and waited. Finally, Harry brought everything over, and arranged it just so. 

"Hmmm....you know what else we need? Some cheese. That'd be nice, don't you think?" Harry pondered out loud. He knew Louis was a mess--but Harry was just getting started.

"Cheese....yeah....cheese is good," Louis mumbled out quietly. And the only thing he could do was watch as Harry took out the cutting board, a knife, and started slicing. And Louis could have sworn Harry was measuring every piece to make sure it was the same size or something--because it took him forever to get back to the table. And when he finally did, he sat across from him--not next to him--like Louis so desperately wanted.

"Come on babe. Eat something," Harry offered quietly--pouring the juice and making his plate. 

"God, Harry....please..."

"It's OK Lou. I know....but you need to eat something...just...uh...trust me," Harry supplied through lust-filled, but serious eyes. "Relax, and have some food. And some pineapple juice."

"Yeah....uh...OK..." Louis finally nodded out. Damn....when did he forget how to talk? Louis quietly made his plate and the two watched each other eat in relative silence. The fruit and cheese were very good--and the juice invigorated him--hydrated him. And he started to realize the whole point of it. If he was lucky, this would be the last time they saw the kitchen in a long, long while. 

"Understand, then?" Harry questioned lightly, as he watched Louis nod to himself and smile. 

"Yeah...I do. It's good. The food. And the juice. Needed it."

Harry just nodded back at him and finished his plate--and waited until Louis did the same. And when they were done, he quietly went about clearing the table--only pausing to push Louis gently on the shoulder when he tried to get up to help.

"No. You sit. I've got it," Harry said softly--and continued his task. And by the time Harry was done, Louis felt a bit more relaxed and cared for. 

Harry made his way back to the table and stood in front of Louis--looking down on him. Now, he was ready. And he prayed to every god that ever existed that Louis was, too. Carefully, Harry scooted Louis' knees apart and kneeled on the floor between them--looking up at the boy with the blue eyes. Gently, he laid his cheek on his thigh and closed his eyes. 

"Harry?" Louis asked, as he began a soft pull through Harry's curls. "Can we go up now? Please?"

Harry shifted back on his knees and placed a hand on each of Louis' thighs--pretending to ponder the thought--as he stroked his thumbs along the inseam of Louis' shorts--applying just the right amount of pressure to get Louis' undivided attention. And when Louis opened his legs wider and whimpered softly--Harry finally had Louis exactly where he wanted him--both physically and emotionally. 

"Sure, Love," Harry finally responded after a few more teasing strokes to Louis's spread thighs. Carefully, Harry stood up and offered two hands to Louis and helped him do the same. "Lead the way."

Louis pulled Harry's hands around his waist and turned around--leaving Harry pressed up against his back--and made his way up the stairs. It was a slow process like that, but Louis didn't mind. He loved the feel of Harry pressed against him--and he could feel Harry's bulge--and it was like the final piece of a puzzle being snapped into place. There was no more indecision--no more doubts. He knew what he wanted. Once they stepped into Harry's room, and he heard the door close behind him, Louis gripped Harry's arms tighter around him and arched his hips up into the boy behind him. 

"Yeah?" Harry breathed into his ear.

"Yeah...please," Louis answered back--continuing to move his hips back against Harry--feeling him harden even more. And Louis felt himself give. It felt like whatever was in him that kept him from being who his is, finally broke--and Louis was gone. Without fear--Louis turned and looked up at Harry. He'd grown, again. Fuck he was beautiful. 

"I'm going to take you apart, Lou," Harry whispered seriously. "Piece by piece. You know that, right?"

"Yes," Louis responded--never breaking eye contact. "Been looking forward to it."

"Good. Because I'm in love with you, Lou. And I want you."

"I want you more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. Need you, Haz. And you know I love you, too. So please stop teasing me and get on with it," Louis challenged with a playful smirk.

"Yeah?"

"Definitely."

"Do you want to talk, first? Harry questioned quietly. "Because we can. We can talk...or we can..."

Harry didn't get to finish. Louis' mouth was on him--opening for him--and that was all Harry needed to know. And as Louis licked into his mouth--Harry was gone, too. 

"Wanna feel you, Haz," Louis breathed out in between kisses. "Will you? Can I?"

"Can you what?" Harry asked, pulling back from the kiss to get a good look at Louis.

Louis reached down to push his palm across Harry's growing bulge--hoping that would be enough for Harry to understand. But Harry just continued to look at him expectantly. 

"Fuck, Haz. Please," Louis wined out. 

"Please, what, Lou? I need to hear it. Need to know you're sure," Harry questioned out--green eyes wide and full of love--as he moved his hands down the sides of Louis' body--letting them rest on the swell of his arse. Louis arched into the touch and snuggled up next to Harry's ear. 

"I want you inside, Haz. And I'm sure. I love you...and I know what I want. Will you?" Louis mumbled into Harry's neck. 

"Of course...anything you want. But that will take a lot of patience. And trust. But I'm definitely ready, if you're sure. Definitely."

"Finally," Louis breathed out--returning his mouth to Harry's. "Fucking finally."

It was Harry that broke the kiss and walked Louis over to his futon. They kissed sweetly--pausing ever so often to undress each other--taking their time with it. Harry had to go slow--he knew--if he was going to get Louis ready for what he was asking. He wasn't kidding when he told Louis it would take patience and trust--but it would also take time. And Harry'd be the one talking someone through it--not the other way around--like he was used to. And he felt the pressure of it--the responsibility--and he didn't want to disappoint. He would be careful with Louis. He knew how to prep, of course. But this was Louis--so it wouldn't be quick. Taking a deep breath to steady and calm himself, he pushed gently on Louis' shoulders--to let him know to lay down on the bed. When he did, Harry climbed over the top of him--straddled his hips--and lined up their cocks. Both of them were a leaking mess, so it only took a couple of practiced strokes over head before he could wrap his fist around the both of them--squeeze them together--and begin a slow stroke. 

"Fuck, Haz," Louis breathed out--looking down to watch Harry's hand. "That feels amazing."

Harry nodded and lowered his head to kiss his boyfriend. Keeping the steady stroke, Harry worked his mouth down Louis' neck, and gently sucked on his right collar bone, then the left--leaving small red marks in his wake. They weren't enough to bruise--Harry didn't think--but Louis didn't complain--just pushed his hips up into his fist when he sucked that little bit harder. Encouraged by the way Louis was responding to his touches, Harry became less hesitant and more deliberate with his mouth. Continuing the pace of his stroke, Harry lowered his head and blew across Louis nipple--then licked--then blew again. And when he got a moan in response, he covered it with his mouth and sucked lightly. 

"Jesus, Harry. Yeah....can feel that everywhere," Louis whimpered out, lifting up so that his nipple was a close to Harry's mouth as possible. "Do that some more."

And Harry did, but this time, he sucked harder and bit gently across the nub--slightly pulling with his teeth--before releasing and licking over it again. Harry kissed his way across Louis' chest and gave his other nipple the same attention--but he must have bit a little too hard, because Louis' breath caught and he tensed underneath him.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, as he gently kissed his way back up to Louis' mouth. "Too hard?"

"Uh...yeah....uh...no?" Louis answered. "Hurt a little.....but I...uh....liked it." 

"Did you, then?" Harry smirked. "It wasn't too much?" Harry teased out, running his nose down Louis' ear and sucking on his neck. But this time he added some teeth. 

"Fuck," Louis responded, his body arching up. "Yeah, Haz. Again."

Harry didn't answer, but worked his way slowly down Louis' neck and chest--with soft sucks and gentle nibbles--enough to keep him on edge--but not enough to fully throw him. And when he got back to Louis' left nipple--he wasn't as soft. And when he sucked--hard--and pulled--he felt Louis' cock twitch in his hand--and Harry was ready to move on. 

"Lou?" Harry mumbled across Louis' chest to the other nipple. "Can I open you up now? Are you ready, love?"

Louis nodded down at Harry--and whimpered when Harry let go of his cock--and scooted off of him. 

"What?" Louis questioned as he watched Harry get up and walk towards his bathroom.

"Gotta get some things," Harry chucked softly. "I'll be right back. Don't worry."

Louis watched Harry's naked bum as he walked quickly to get whatever he needed. It didn't take long, but when Harry put the lube down on the bed next to him, he had to remember to breathe. He wanted this. He knew he did. But what would it feel like? Would it hurt too much? Or just enough? Would Harry explain it to him? What....

"Louis? Are you with me?" Harry's voice snapped Louis back in an instant. And Louis didn't like the look of concern on his boyfriends face--at all. 

"Yeah....I'm here. Just wondering what this will feel like," Louis admitted--a deep blush spreading across his cheeks and chest. And Harry thought it was the most beautiful he'd ever looked. "Will you talk to me...during?"

"If you'd like," Harry hummed, crawling back on the bed. "Haven't you done this to yourself?"

"Uh....no...I...uh....no." Louis responded, blush deepening. 

"Christ, Lou. It's amazing. You're going to love it," Harry smiled out--making sure Louis could see his face. "It's weird at first...and uncomfortable for a bit...but if you relax and trust me...I'll make you feel so good. Promise."

"Love you. Yeah...can you...uh..." Louis motioned to his cock--which had softened a bit during the intermission. 

"You don't even have to ask," Harry smirked out, patting Louis' thigh to let him know he wanted to climb in between. "Like the other night. Let me lay between."

Louis automatically opened up for Harry--allowing him to climb between his thighs. And just watching the sight had him thickening up--and when Harry got his mouth on him for the first time in forever, it didn't take long before Louis had to pull through Harry's curls in warning. 

"No....Haz....not like this. Please. Ready, now." Louis breathed out nervously. Harry slurped up to the top--releasing with a light pop and a satisfied grin. God he loved having Louis in his mouth. Harry lifted up, sat back on his heels, and looked down on Louis with a shameless smirk. 

"You know, captain...if you want a good stretch....you really should turn over."

Catching the phrase, Louis beamed up at his boyfriend and chuckled lightly. 

"Is that right, Styles?"

"Yup."

"OK, then...but....uh....Haz?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I want to turn back over when you....uh...when it's not your finger?" Louis asked warmly--eyes searching Harry's for understanding. 

Harry stretched back over Louis and kissed him for a few minutes--holding him close--letting him know the answer. "I'd love that, Lou," Harry finally answered, pulling back and looking down at him. "But right now I need you to turn over for me. And put this pillow under your hips--and just relax. You gotta trust me, Louis."

This time, Louis didn't hesitate--and turned himself over--and allowed Harry to place the pillow under him. 

"Yeah...now lay down....just like that....so beautiful Louis. Hips up for me."

Louis never knew four little words could change the atmosphere in a room. Change the direction of his thinking. But when Harry said 'hips up for me,' Louis lost it. He was back to how he was earlier--and he knew if Harry didn't get on with it soon--that he'd beg. Instead, Louis spread his thighs a little bit wider and arched his hips up for Harry--hoping he'd get the message.

"Fuck, Lou. Yeah," Harry moaned--taking in the sight of him. Harry gently placed one hand on Louis' lower back and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles--then lowered his mouth and kissed along the base of his spine. And when Louis arched up again, Harry knew he was ready.

Harry lifted up and reached over for the slick he'd tossed on the bed earlier--and spread some across two fingers. He didn't honestly think Louis would get to a third--and if he couldn't--he knew he wouldn't be ready. But he didn't want to be the one to deny Louis anything--especially his cock. So he would try and get him prepped properly--if he could. Carefully, Harry placed one last gentle kiss to Louis' lower back, then slid both hands down over his arse, allowing his thumbs to fall in between his perfect cheeks. To his satisfaction, Louis only sighed and relaxed when Harry stretched them apart--opening Louis so that he could see him. Really see him. And he was absolutely perfect. 

"Christ, Lou. So pretty for me," Harry let out without thinking. But Louis didn't mind the compliment. 

"Yeah? Wanna be pretty for you." Louis whispered out--a little unsure of himself. But there was no reason for that--if Harry's whimper was anything to go on.

"Gonna touch you now, love." Harry whispered back. It wasn't a question--and Louis tensed a bit in anticipation for it. "Relax into it. Like when I dig into your calves. Can you open yourself up more for me? Spread just a little bit more?"

Louis did so--arching a little bit more--and Harry no longer needed both thumbs to hold him open--only one. With his slick covered finger, Harry rubbed a line down and over Louis' opening. It was soft--meant to relax--and Harry's breath hitched when Louis pushed back for it. Once again, Harry reached over for the slick and poured more onto his fingers, and brought them both up and over Louis--making sure he was wet enough to continue--and aligned his finger--and pushed. 

"Oh my god," Louis let out through a shaky, but steady breath. "Yeah...more."

Harry pressed in a little further--until his knuckle was lodged just outside Louis' opening--and waited a bit. He had long fingers--and he didn't want Louis to feel any discomfort yet. Slowly, Harry started circling what was inside Louis--letting him get used to the feeling of having something there. And Harry could tell he'd never even done this to himself before--he was that tight. 

"More, Haz. Please," Louis moaned out--pushing slowly backwards--wanting more of Harry's finger. 

Carefully, Harry obliged the request. And as he pushed his knuckle in--along with the rest of his finger--he grinned to himself when he felt Louis tighten up on him. Fuck he would feel so good around his cock. And the thought encouraged him to keep going. 

"Feels so good, Haz. Do that circle thing, again." Louis requested. And when Harry looked up to check on him, he knew he was doing alright. His eyes were closed and his jaw was relaxed--a good sign, Harry thought, so he gently rotated his wrist a few times--then his finger. It took some time, but eventually Louis loosened up a bit around his finger, and Harry thought he was ready for a second. He pulled his finger out most of the way, slicked over it again--along with his larger, middle--and placed the tip of the second finger on top of the one already inside--and pushed in just enough to overlap the two--effectively leaving just two fingertips inside his boyfriend. 

"Oh my god," Louis whispered out--getting Harry's attention. And when he looked up to check on him--he could see that his jaw had set--but Harry knew it was probably more out of anticipation than discomfort. 

"You're alright, Louis. Just relax back onto my hand..." Harry instructed softly, holding steady and waiting to feel Louis' hips move. That, more than anything, would let Harry know where he was--if he was alright for more. And when Louis began to push, Harry used his free hand to grip his hip and guide him back--while pushing forward with his wrist. 

"I've got you, Lou," Harry comforted, as he began to turn is wrist yet again--stretching Louis a little past comfort. "You look so beautiful like this--with my fingers in you."

"Beautiful," Louis echoed back. And Harry was so happy that Louis was still with him--and still rocking his hips back softly--even though he felt so, so tight. It didn't take as long for Louis to loosen around his fingers this time--and after a few minutes Harry was working in and out of him a bit more easily--but still with caution. And he hadn't tried to find his spot yet, either. He'd have to stretch his fingers wide--and explore--for that--and he still wasn't sure if they'd get there. But Louis had other ideas. 

"Wanna turn over, Haz. Wanna see you. Please." Louis requested. "Want more."

Harry carefully removed his fingers, and tossed the pillow out of the way--allowing for Louis to turn over. Once on his back, Harry pushed his heels up--causing Louis to spread wide. Without any warning, Louis pulled his knees up to let them rest over his hips--opening himself for Harry. 

"God, Lou. You're so amazing. Gonna put my fingers back in you now...get you ready for my cock," Harry said in a tone that he knew would get Louis' full attention. It wasn't a tease, and Harry intended to be direct.

Louis froze at that--and Harry took in the sight before him. 

"You still want it? Want me inside?" Harry questioned seriously.

"Yeah..." Louis whimpered out. 'Want it." 

"If you do, then I'm going to have to stretch you, Louis. Not just put my fingers in you. It'll be different--more uncomfortable. Do you want that?"

"Yes. Want to. Want you," Louis answered, opening his eyes so that hopefully Harry could see just how honest he was being. 

"Then relax now....and tell me if it's too much. This will be...more...intense...OK?"

"Yes. OK.....just...please...." Louis let out, growing a little impatient. And that's exactly what Harry wanted. A little impatience. He wanted Louis on edge--almost begging for it. And Harry knew he was close to doing exactly that--and Harry also knew how to get him all the way there. Wanted him there. Needed him there--if he was going to get his cock inside of him.

Harry scooted up and angled himself so that he could lay one of Louis' thighs over his, and gently moved Louis' other knee off his chest--putting his foot down flat and letting his knee fall wide. God he looked beautiful like this. Harry grabbed his slick and coated his fingers evenly, three this time--and added extra to his tips to rub over Louis. Harry lined up the same two fingers as before and pushed in. The new position Louis was in didn't allow him to move back onto his fingers--it only allowed him to relax, open up, and take. And to be honest, it was one of Harry's most favorite thing to do. But this was Louis--and he was still so bloody tight--so Harry had to be careful not to lose control. And when Harry felt Louis loosen up once again, he scooted up more, lifting Louis' thigh further over his--and began to spread his buried fingers apart--carefully, at first--then with less and less caution. And when Harry looked up to check on Louis--he found that Louis was just staring at him--his mouth open a bit--as his breaths became more and more shallow. Harry didn't even ask when he pulled his two fingers almost all the way out and aligned his ring finger on top of the other two--and pushed back in. 

"Harry?" Louis questioned at the sting of it. "Haz?"

"You're doing so well, Lou. So well. You look so pretty like this. How are you feeling?"

"Hurts a bit. Stings." Louis answered honestly. "Want to move with it. Think that would be better." 

But Harry could feel him starting to relax a bit around him already--so he wasn't overly concerned. Harry just smiled down at him and bent over to kiss him--lick into his mouth--distract him--as he spread three fingers wide this time. Louis groaned out into his mouth--but Harry kissed him through it--knowing it would be better for him, soon. When Harry broke the kiss, he looked down at Louis blue watery eyes and swollen lips and had to check himself. 

"Louis?" 

"Intense," Louis whispered--eyes never leaving Harry's. 

"Just wait, love," Harry promised, as he lowered his head and licked over Louis' half-hard cock. "Remember when I promised to make you feel amazing?"

"Yeah...remember," Louis breathed out--still getting used to Harry stretching him. 

Harry just smiled at him, flipped his wrist up instead of sideways, and took the head of his cock into his mouth. While he sucked, Harry stretched Louis and found the spot that could make him fall apart. Without hesitation--Louis had waited long enough--Harry grazed his fingertips over it and felt Louis thicken up immediately in his mouth. It was so fucking hot, that Harry couldn't keep himself from doing it again and again. And it didn't take long before Harry could taste Louis' precome in his mouth--and he had to let Louis know his options. 

"Lou?" Harry questioned up at Louis, as he gently grazed his spot again. "How do you feel?"

"Amazing, Haz. Please...." Lou responded with closed eyes and a finally relaxed jaw. 

"You want to come like this? With my fingers in you? Wanna come in my mouth while I fuck you with my fingers? I've only been teasing you so far. It's amazing, Lou. If you want it like this...I'm great with that. Wanna please you."

"You don't want to fuck me?" Louis asked, eyes opening--questioning.

"Of course I do. Just thought I should let you know that I'm OK with just doing this. If you want to," Harry answered, pulling across Louis spot this time. 

"Fuck.." Louis breathed out. "Do that again. Please." 

So Harry did. Not only did he press into Louis' spot, but he sucked him down further and sloppier--and didn't stop until Louis had water sliding from the corners of his eyes. Not in pain--exactly--more from intense stimulation--and want. 

"Tell me now, Louis," Harry breathed out harshly, throat sore from his work, as he spread his fingers wide again. 

And when Louis noticed it didn't even hurt anymore--not really, anyway, he chose. 

"Please, Harry. Want you. Inside. Come here," Louis answered, motioning for Harry to crawl over him. 

"Yeah?" Harry half-teased. God he couldn't wait to get inside of his boy. 

"Please." Louis groaned out. "Before I start proper begging for it." 

Harry just returned the smile that had worked its way across his boyfriends face, and positioned himself and grabbed the slick. But this time he coated his achingly hard cock. It actually stung from the contact. Once he was sure he'd given himself a proper coat, he added some more to his fingers and checked Louis one more time. He had already started to tighten back up--so Harry got with it. Slowly, he lifted Louis' knees and tucked them under his arms as he settled over Louis. Reluctantly, he had to let one knee go--he knew he'd need his hand to guide himself--and to keep himself from pushing too fast or too deep. Using it, he lined himself up and pressed the head of his cock against Louis' rim and gathered every ounce of self control he'd ever had to ask one last time.

"Lou?" Harry questioned--making sure to keep eye contact and pressure. 

"Yes. Love you," Louis answered--eyes never wavering. 

"And I love you, too. So much." Harry answered--as he lifted slightly and pushed.

"Haz. Wait. Please," Louis whimpered out after Harry'd pushed his head past his rim. After being able to take Harry's fingers, the sting of it was unexpected. 

"You're alright, love," Harry cooed--holding himself still inside of his boyfriend--and using his one free hand to stroke Louis' face. "So perfect, Louis."

And as Harry stroked through Louis' hair--patiently waiting on Louis to recover enough for him to continue--he couldn't wait to have Louis inside of...him. Knew he wanted it. After a bit, Harry finally felt Louis clench and release around him--allowing him to push forward a bit more. 

"There ya go, love. So good for me. You feel amazing...so tight around me. Tell me when I can move."

Louis just nodded his head and reached up to pull Harry back down for a kiss that Harry assumed would be a sweet one. It wasn't. Instead, Louis immediately opened his mouth to him and moaned into it. And with that, Harry lifted Louis' thighs up--changing the angle a bit--to make it more satisfying for both of them--and began to work his hips.

"Haz?"

"Hmmm?" Harry asked--but he was lost in Louis. And he had to concentrate to keep his pace. 

"Harder, please. And...yeah...just..."

Louis lifted his own hips and began pushing back to meet Harry--allowing a little more than half of him inside. But that was more than enough to hit Louis spot just right. And Harry knew when he'd nudged it, because Louis moaned loudly and finally arched into it--pushing back with less caution and more want. 

"Wanna feel all of you Haz," Louis whispered into Harry's ear. "Stop teasing me."

And with that, Harry was gone, gone, gone. Harry pushed himself up, flipped Louis leg across his body, and wrapped himself up behind him--and gave Louis exactly what he asked for. Harry knew the angle would feel amazing like this--if Louis was ready for it--and he mostly was. Plus this allowed Harry to reach around and get a hand on Louis' cock--which, to his genuine surprise, was still hard. Harry shifted down a bit so that the he'd hit Louis spot and buried himself deep--whispering sweet and dirty things into Louis' neck--while his movement became more skilled--and forceful. After a bit, Harry stroked Louis with more purpose and angled himself just right to get his boyfriend there. And as Louis sobbed and choked and shook through his orgasm--clenching around Harry in the process--Harry lost it as well--and came deep inside of Louis. He'd meant to pull out--he really did--but Louis was gripping around his cock so impossibly tight that his body had no choice but to push forward into it.

When Harry finally came back to himself, he realized Louis was shaking in his arms. Carefully--Harry pulled himself out of Louis and scooted back so that he could turn his boyfriend to him and cuddle him properly. Louis snuggled in close--and Harry flipped the duvet over the both of them--and ran his fingers through Louis' hair for a long, long time. Harry'd thought Louis might have drifted off to sleep--so when he kissed his chest--it tickled and surprised him--and forced a giggle. 

"Haz?"

"Yes, love?" Harry answered, scooting down so that he was face to face with Louis. 

"Will it always be like this?" Louis questioned through wide, serious eyes. 

"Which part?" Harry chuckled out lightly, placing a soft peck across Louis' lips. 

"Uh...all of it? I don't know how to say it." Louis looked confused--and Harry didn't want that.

"You can ask me anything, you know that, right?" Harry assured, stroking Louis' cheek with his thumb. God he loved Louis.

"I know," Louis responded, leaning into Harry's touch. "Just don't want to embarrass myself, I guess."

"You could never do that. You can ask anything and I'll tell you the truth. Always."

Louis thought about that for a bit and finally nodded to himself. 

"Will it hurt...at first...like that every time?" Louis finally asked, burying his head into Harry's neck.

"No....not as much," Harry answered carefully as he used his fingers to lift Louis chin out of his neck so he could see him. "Was it too much, love?"

"At first....yeah...but it felt really good...especially when you got behind me? I wasn't...uh...expecting that. But when you first....uh...yeah." Louis tried to explain. 

"I'm so sorry if I hurt you at first--but it was your first time, love. It won't be as painful next time...promise."

"Oh...." Louis responded, looking a little....no....it couldn't be that. Could it?

"Louis?" Harry smirked, cocking his head to one side and sitting up slightly. "Lou?"

"Uh...." Louis rolled onto his back and tried to cover his blush with his hands. 

"Christ, Louis. Really?"

Louis made a groan and then a moan when he twisted himself up in half-embarrassment. A fucking moan. 

"You liked it, Louis? You liked the first part, didn't you?" Harry questioned out, flipping Louis flat and crawling on top of him. "You liked the pain?"

Louis just nodded...blush deepening across his body. 

"Fuck, Louis. You're going to be the death of me. You know that, right?" Harry questioned, staring down at the boy...man...beneath him.

Louis just giggled and Harry couldn't hold in the explosion of laughter. 

"Well....that definitely opens up a world of possibilities," Harry half teased, half promised. 

"Fuck, really?" Louis responded--eyes wide. 

Harry just laughed again and kissed his boyfriend on his cheek and climbed off the bed. 

"Now come on, Lou. We need to get you in the shower, love."

"Uh....yeah....I can feel you....uh....dripping out of me?" Louis smiled out, shaking his head and blushing again. 

"It happens. Shower will help. Hot water and a finger or two...and I'll have you clean in no time. But you're going to be sore...so it might hurt a bit....."

"Fuck...." was all Louis could get out before he got up gingerly and grabbed Harry's hand. And Harry had to laugh again as he watched Louis tip toe into the bathroom with a satisfied smirk plastered across his face. 

Fuck, indeed, Harry thought--as he followed Louis in and made good on his promise. And if Louis was the one that happened to paint Batman white as Harry cleaned him out--Harry wasn't worried. He was pretty sure the caped crusader would keep Louis' secrets, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....no I'm not. (hehehheh....djm)


	17. ....taking control?

After their shower, Harry and Louis toweled off, dressed, and made their way back to the kitchen. And Harry couldn't hold back a giggle as he watched Louis gingerly maneuver his way down the stairs and into his seat at the table. It was damn cute, and Harry was filled with love and pride--knowing that he was the one responsible. And it's not as if Louis was complaining--at all. He just smirked through it and leaned up for a kiss once he got himself settled. 

"I'd cook for us, but it's late," Harry smiled out as he gathered plates and and added left over lasagna. "I hope you like pasta." 

"Course I do," Louis mumbled sleepily. "I'd eat anything you put in front of me."

"You think so?" Harry beamed out--taking Louis in--and realizing he didn't get the innuendo. Another thing he'd have to get to, eventually, Harry thought as he microwaved the pasta on medium so it wouldn't get tough--and delivered the plates to the table. "Would you like some wine?"

"Oh, uh...milk?" Louis responded sheepishly--trying to hide his embarrassment. 

"Coming right up," Harry laughed out as he poured both of them a glass and sat to eat--next to Louis this time--so that he could tangle their feet together. Harry knew he'd never get enough of touching Louis. Ever. 

The two ate most of their food--it was good--and just relaxed for a while--and thinking about the past hour and a half--neither of them wanting to think about Monday just yet. They'd have to hash that out soon, though, Harry knew--but he was in no hurry to rush it, either.

"Haz?" Louis broke the silence, once they were done eating.

"Hmmmm?" Harry answered, tired and satisfied in just about every way he could be. 

"Can we sleep now? I'm so tired," Louis answered, pushing his plate back and laying his head down in his arms. 

"Of course," Harry soothed, leaning over to run his fingers through the back of Louis' hair. 

"I think you might have to carry me up those stairs, though," Louis mumbled into his arms. "Not sure I can make it up."

Harry rose, forgetting about the dishes, and helped Louis up out of his chair, wrapped his arms around his waist and guided him back up to his room. It was a slow, sleepy process. Once they were finally undressed and under the covers together, it only took seconds before both were out--tangled up--and without a care in the world except for each other.

____________________________________________________________________________________

Harry always thought that he was an excellent judge of character. He'd done a great job, so far, of surrounding himself with people that could be counted on. People that were fair. But when he woke up alone....again...he didn't know what to think...about himself or Louis. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he dressed, rinsed his mouth, and made his way downstairs, half expecting to find Louis sitting at the kitchen table--but he wasn't there. No Louis. No note. No nothing. Harry sat down and lowered his head into his arms and tried to clear his head. He thought about the previous day--and wanted to kick himself. Just when Harry thought he was going to go insane, Louis walked into the kitchen in a pair of his old sweats and and an old soccer shirt he hadn't seen in years. And he was drenched in sweat. 

"Haz?" Louis called softly--taking in the sight of his disheveled boyfriend. "Are you...uh....what's wrong?"

"I thought you left....I thought I did something wrong," Harry mumbled into his arm, not wanting to face Louis. 

"Harry," Louis smiled out, shaking his head, "I'm not going anywhere, love. I was just....uh....sore. Thought a quick run would help work some of it out a bit, ya know?"

"Did it work?" Harry asked, suddenly amused, eyeing his boyfriend curiously. 

"No...not really," Louis admitted with a shake of his sweaty, beautiful head. "I'm not sure how I'm going to practice on Monday, actually. And I want you to know that I hold you personally responsible."

"What? Me?" Harry played along, grinning. "Just let me remind you of a few things then, love." 

Harry stood up and walked over to Louis, letting his hands rest where they were born to fall--on the swell of his boyfriends arse. "I didn't give you anything you didn't want. Didn't ask for. If I'd have waited any longer, you would have been begging for it." 

Louis feigned surprise, then disgust. He probably should be in drama. "Styles, I don't know what you're talking about. Me. Beg you? You've got to be joking. The only one in this house that's going to be begging is you. Promise." 

Harry froze at Louis' words--taken aback--and, for once, was at a loss for words. 

"I can't believe it," Louis continued. "Harry Styles, without a comeback. Hmmmm....I think I rather like it when you're not talking. Perhaps I should shut you up more often."

"Try it," Harry challenged--barely able to get the words out. 

Louis stepped closer, closing the space between them, then hesitated. "I'm all sweaty, though...uh..."

"Fucking pussy," Harry challenged--never breaking eye contact. "Stop acting like such a little girl and take what you want." 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Louis reacted. Within seconds, Louis had grabbed two fist fulls of Harry's hair, and was practically shoving him down to his knees. 

"Suck." Louis half ordered, half requested. But he was too gone to care. Quickly, he untangled one of his hands and shoved his joggers and shorts down past his hips and gave himself a few quick strokes. And when Harry licked his lips and stared up at Louis with wide green eyes, Louis couldn't hold back. He grabbed the base of his now throbbing cock in one hand and tightened his grip in Harry's hair with the other--and pulled Harry's mouth closer. Harry tried to close the remaining distance, but Louis yanked his head back--hard--keeping him from getting there. Louis took a quick second to search Harry's face--checking--asking--but he didn't need to.

"Get on with it...." was all Harry could get out before Louis guided himself into his boyfriends mouth. God he loved Harry's mouth. It was hot. Wet. Experienced. And Louis decided that he was going to use it. He worked steadily at first, not giving Harry too much--just teasing, really--enjoying the feel of it, the control of it. Every now and then he'd pull himself out completely and drag the head of his leaking cock across Harry's swollen lips. The best part about doing that was Harry would look up at him when he did--and Louis would get lost in Harry's pleading eyes--and it wouldn't take too long before he couldn't take it anymore and guide himself back over his boyfriend's tongue. 

"Open." It wasn't a request--Harry'd already told him to take what he wanted. And when Harry did--Louis was gone, gone, gone. 

Louis dropped his hand off his cock and grabbed two good handfuls of curls--and shoved himself over his boyfriends tongue. He only paused for a second when Harry gagged around him--but when Harry nodded and moaned in response, Louis shoved back in--over and over again--until Harry's eyes were leaking water down his pretty face. And Louis thought he'd be damned to hell--but the sight of Harry like that only made him want to do it again. So he did. And when he felt the familiar pool of heat in his groin, he tightened his grip of curls and shoved Harry's head onto his cock and exploded in his mouth. Harry recovered quickly--swallowing around him--and Louis had never felt anything like it. He'd never come like this--this hard, or this long. And when he felt Harry's nails scrape across his thigh, he quickly realized maybe he should let Harry up. Instead of releasing his curls, he used his grip to pull his boyfriend off his cock and back onto his feet. Harry looked a mess--and Louis was so....so.....proud. His eyes were watery and more green than he'd ever seen them. His hair was a disaster, curls shoved this way and that--and his perfect lips were swollen and red. He watched as Harry gathered himself, got his breath back. He couldn't have taken his eyes off him even if the world was ending around them. Carefully, Louis untwisted his fingers and let his hands slide down to cup Harry's face--and began a slow stroke across his flushed cheeks with his thumbs. 

"I've uh.....never...." Louis started, but Harry placed a single finger over his lips to stop him. Harry leaned in and laid his head on Louis shoulder and snuggled close. Louis, in that moment, knew he'd go through fire and flames for Harry Styles. But right now, he just wanted to go back to sleep. So on wobbly legs, he led Harry back upstairs, laid him down, climbed very nearly on top of him, and did just that.

*****************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something quick. Three more chapters to go..... I will update soon :) Been really busy lately :)


	18. Third time's a charm...

When Harry awoke, it was nearly dark. He ran a hand through his curls while he got his bearings. He thought it was still Saturday...but he must have slept through most of it. Finally pulling himself together, he laid his head back down on his pillow and marveled at the mass of brown hair snuggled across his belly. Louis. Finally, Harry thought to himself, he's still here. And Harry had to take a deep, deep breath to keep from tearing up. Seriously. Harry relaxed back onto his bed and let his hand stroke through the fine hairs in the middle of his chest--and thought. Thought about everything. Thought about how Louis surrendered everything to him just a few hours ago--so willingly--and perfectly. Harry'd never experienced anything like it. Being with Mark was so different--it was impossible to compare the two. Louis was so impossibly unique--in every way--so incredibly new to everything, yet so, so willing to try...and give. Harry thought about how he had to bury his face into the back of Louis' shoulder to hide his own wet tears as he slid back in deep, opening Louis up from behind. It was amazing--and overwhelming--all at the same time. And Harry chuckled to himself when he thought about Louis' admission about liking the pain of it. And to think he'd been so very, very careful with him--working his hardest to make sure he was ready--to make the experience as painless as possible. And as Harry replayed everything in his head, he absentmindedly began a slow stroke down Louis' back, causing him to stir. Harry knew Louis was awake when he felt a gentle kiss just above his belly button. 

"Hmmmm," Louis mumbled out. "What time is it?"

Harry glanced at the small clock next to his bed. "Close to five. We've slept through most of the day."

"Brilliant," Louis chuckled. "It's still Saturday."

"Suppose so," Harry grinned out. "What would you like to do today?"

"After yesterday," Louis replied, "I think I'd just like to stay in bed and have a bit of a lie in, if that's alright with you. Maybe order some terrible pizza or summat and just chill."

"We can do that," Harry contemplated, "that sounds real nice, actually. Maybe watch a movie?"

"Oh no," Louis said, twisting his body around so he could see Harry's face, "no more sappy love stories, Styles. Can we please watch something with some action in it?"

"Porn it is," Harry joked out--with a wide grin plastered across his face.

"What?" Louis asked, more serious than Harry expected. "You have...uh....some?"

"Wait...what?" Harry laughed out, "Louis, are you telling me you've never watched porn?"

"No." 

"Not ever?" Harry replied in a disbelieving tone.

"Not ever," Louis admitted, sitting up and turning to face Harry. 

"You do have internet, right?" Harry continued to prod--playing with Louis. 

"Yes, Harry. I have internet. I just didn't want to."

"Didn't want to? Why not, love?" Harry asked, taking it down a notch at the softer tone of Louis' voice--the sound of it sending a longing through Harry's body. 

"Because," Louis half wined out, "I thought it would be like....like...torture. To see something that I couldn't...uh...you know."

"No, Lou....I get it. You didn't want to watch it because it would be hard to see it. To see something that you wanted--and couldn't have?" Harry asked, genuinely interested in what Louis had to say.

"Yeah...exactly. Before now...it just wasn't an option."

"No porn then," Harry smiled out. "What about The Avengers or something?" 

"Do you have the Incredible Hulk. The second one--not the shitty first one? It's good."

Harry just shook his head, sat up, and scooted over to Louis and snuggled his head into the crook of his neck. "Sure, Lou. Sounds good. I'll order the pizza in a bit. But...if it's OK with you...I'd...uh....like to talk for a bit?"

"Talk?" Louis questioned. "Yeah...OK. I guess we should, actually."

"I'm glad that you want to, Louis. I just want to ask you a few things," Harry supplied--stroking his thumbs across Louis' cheeks. Harry realized it was quickly becoming a habit of his--and he was worried he wouldn't be able to restrain himself in public.

"Will I be able to touch you, Louis? In public? At school? Is that going to be OK?" Harry asked quietly--face still against Louis' neck. 

Louis took a deep breath and let out a quiet sigh. Harry gave him time to think about it--didn't press him for an answer right away. 

"I.....I....don't know, Haz," Louis started honestly, reaching down to pull Harry's chin off his shoulder so he could see him. "I want to, but I honestly don't know how things are going to go on Monday. And then there's the team to think about."

Louis held eye contact and waited patiently to see how Harry would respond. It didn't take long.

"So you want to, then?" Harry smiled out--letting Louis off the hook quickly. 

"Course I do. But it's not just about me, or us even. Coach really is going to kill me, anyway, once...uh...Shelley gets to him." Louis couldn't hide the concern in his voice. And Harry wanted to make it immediately better--but knew Louis was probably right--it would be rough for a while. "It would help a lot if the team knew...and could....you know...stand by me...I mean us....through it? Help with Shelley and her bullshit."

"Do you think they will?" Harry asked tentatively. He had his doubts.

"I think so. I mean, look at Stan. I never thought he'd be the one to...uh...support me. But he did. And you, too,' Louis supplied, shaking his head back and forth--still in disbelief. 

"Stan's pretty great. You should have seen him give me the what for the night we both showed up at your house. I wasn't sure if he was going to help me or punch me," Harry grinned out. "I think he'll be there for you....for us. Plus he said he was going to help with Zayn. That's something I'll have to see before I believe, though." 

Louis just smiled back at Harry--his blue eyes twinkling--as he leaned back onto the bed, pulling Harry down with him. "Yeah. I think Zayn will be OK...eventually. Shelley's going to be tough, though. Stace and Becks seem to think they can handle her, though...and I wouldn't underestimate those two for anything."

"Really?" Harry asked, but not really surprised. He thought the same thing. "You think they've already have a plan of attack?"

"Oh, knowing those two....they've already put one into action." Louis laughed out, his body shaking gently against Harry's. "We'll just have to see how it goes, Haz. Monday will be....uh...very interesting." 

"Good thing it's only Saturday, then," Harry smiled out, curling up closer to Louis, absentmindedly tracing his abdominal muscles with one of his long, slender fingers. 

'Yeah," Louis let out shakily, getting Harry's attention. Fuck---Harry thought--as he watched Louis thicken up in his shorts. 

"You OK Lou?" Harry teased, looking up at Louis--taking him in. "I'm starting to wonder if you're just here for the sex."

"Oh my god, Harry...that's so not...uh....why....I....uh.....it's just that this is so new...and you're....well, you...and I can't....well, my body can't....fuck...I just want you all the time....Jesus...."

"It's OK, Louis," Harry giggled out, climbing on top of his boyfriend. "Believe me, it's OK. I love it, actually. I was only teasing about sex with your boyfriend being the only reason you're here, love."

Louis froze immediately at Harry's words--and held eye contact. 

"Boyfriend?" Louis asked quietly. And Harry realized they hadn't actually talked about it. 

"Well...yeah...I guess we did things backwards, then....huh?" Harry smiled out, feeling Louis relax underneath him. "I mean...I guess most people use the b word before the l word."

"Probably," Louis supplied, "but nothing about us has ever been normal, so." 

"So," Harry echoed, before placing a soft kiss to Louis' cheek. "Boyfriends, then?"

"Oh my god, Styles," Louis teased. "I guess you'll do. I mean....your mouth is kinda perfect."

"Well...Tomlinson...I can say the same thing about your bum," Harry answered, teasing back, grinding down gently. Harry liked this game. He especially liked how it ended up this morning.

"So it was good, then," Louis whispered, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I did alright?"

"Perfect, Lou." Harry answered, stopping his grind and sliding off to the side and pulling Louis in tight. "You were so amazing." 

Louis just nodded into Harry's chest and let Harry hold him for a while. "Amazing. That's good to know. So if I was amazing...and uh...perfect...does that mean that you want me to...uh...bottom, then....when we're together?"

"When you want to," Harry answered carefully. "Only when you want to, Louis. There are so many other things that we can do...things that feel amazing. And...when you're ready...I want to, too." 

"Really? You want me to?" Louis questioned--genuinely surprised. "I thought that....well....uh...."

"Louis?" Harry asked, scooting down to eye level and pulling the duvet up and over their heads. "What did you think, love?"

"I...uh....well....after this morning, in the kitchen.....my god, I want to. I really, really want to. I just feel like I'm playing catch up, ya know? There are so many things I want to do. So many things I want to try, but don't have the first clue about. And that....scares me, Haz."

"Scares you? Why?" Harry asked--concerned. 

"Because, Harry. Won't you get bored of it? Of me...you know...not ever knowing what I'm doing?"

"Louis," Harry whispered out, "let me let you in on a not so little secret here. I'm just as gone as you are. Trust me. I want to do everything with you Louis. All of it. Every single thing I've ever done, watched, heard about or even dreamed of. The last thing you ever have to worry about is me getting bored. I don't think we'll ever get through it...all the things I want to do with you....and to you." 

"God, Styles. You talk as if you have a list or summat," Louis teased--playful again. 

"Maybe I do," Harry played back. 

"Hmmmm....so tell me, Haz. What's next on this list of yours then," Louis smiled out---looking at Harry with his best innocent face.

Harry just groaned and scooted back up, arranging pillows behind him so that he could sit up comfortably. And when Louis started to move up with him, Harry took back what he gave up in the kitchen. 

"No. You stay." Harry commanded gently--but still commanded--and Louis froze--at first in comprehension of his words, then in the understanding of them. 

Harry adjusted a little more and spread his legs wider, making space for Louis, and then made him wait. 

"Watch, Louis." Harry directed again--still very gently--but effectively. "Move between my legs, sit up on your knees, and watch."

Harry watched and Louis' mouth fell open slightly--his brain working through the situation--deciding. After a few moments, Louis arranged himself as Harry instructed, and laid his hands just above Harry's knees. 

"Did I say touch, Louis?" Harry asked--his tone direct--but still even. This was new--and he was just gong on instinct.

Carefully, Louis pulled his hands back and held them out in front of his body--like he didn't know what to do with them. 

"Behind your back. Hold them together behind your back." And when Louis did, it made his abs and pecs more defined and even more beautiful, if that was possible. And the way his thighs looked--Christ. Harry took in the sight of him and wrapped his fist around himself and watched as Louis took a deep breath. Harry could tell he was thinking about moving again--could tell his body wanted to by the way it tensed and then relaxed, over and over again--like it was fighting the directions coming from Louis' brain to keep still. And Harry had to admit he was enjoying it--getting off on it. Hard. Louis sat back on his heels a little farther and started to close his eyes. 

"Open." Harry requested--a words coming out more forcefully than intended--shocking them both back into reality. 

"Louis...come here," Harry soothed, sitting up more so that he could reach for Louis. 

Louis just smirked at him and shook his head, and grabbed his wrists tighter--the flex in his upper arms and shoulders giving him away--as he sat further up on his knees. And Harry really couldn't explain why--or what-- that did to him--emotionally. But he could sure tell you what it did to him physically. 

"Jesus," Harry muttered under his breath as he felt his cock twitch in his hand in anticipation. Harry took a minute to look over his boyfriend--to find his way back to the place he was before. It didn't take long. 

"Watch me, Louis." Harry echoed again, as he began to slide his hand over himself, finding a slow rhythm--one that would show off his favorite technique. And Louis did. He watched as Harry worked his fist--twisting just so--thumbing his slit just like that--until he started to leak. And when Harry brought his wet thumb up to his mouth and sucked, Louis broke. 

"Please, Harry. Please....let me. Can I?" Louis requested quietly--unsure if it was OK to ask. Unsure if Harry would want that....allow it? God this was so different...so strange...and so, so fucking hot. He felt like he was wound so tight that--at any moment--he might snap in two. He wanted to follow Harry's instructions. Every single one of them--but he also wanted to jump on top of his boyfriend and grind down into him--the two commands in his brain--Harry's and his own--fighting for dominance. Louis realized he'd never been this worked up in his life--and he liked it. 

"Can you what, Louis?" Harry answered, not breaking. "Good boyfriends use their words and ask politely for what they want." 

And Christ, if Louis' brain wasn't such a mess, he might be able to ask--but now? He could barely form thoughts, much less words. It took concentration--serious concentration--to ignore his throbbing hard on and think about something as simple as a few words. Eventually, he managed to find a way to express himself. 

"Fuck my mouth," Louis let out in a rush--but meaning every single word. And when Harry just kept staring at him expectantly--with serious green eyes--it sent his brain scrambling once again--trying to figure out what it did wrong. 

"Please. Hazzah." Louis finally supplied, his brain working so hard that the words should have been capable of solving all the problems in the known universe. 

"Don't let go of your hands, Louis. And don't scoot up," Harry instructed again. "Can you do that for me?" 

The simple question that Harry asked him quaked through his very center. Can you do that for me? Six simple little words--begging to be answered in just the right way. The only way they could be, really. Louis thought hard about the instructions. Yes, he could follow them. Yes, he could hold his hands behind his back. And yes, he could stay in the same place. He could do that. 

"Yes," Louis' brain finally worked out. "I can." 

"Can?" Harry questioned. 

"Will," Louis corrected--sensing from some unknown place that it was the right answer--the correct one. The only one that would do.

"Good, Louis. You are so perfect for me." Harry praised out, eyeing Louis and shifting his body down a bit--like he was measuring something important--something that couldn't be calculated incorrectly or the world would end. It took a minute, and Louis watched as Harry's brain worked--hard--to get it right. Finally, Harry leaned back on his elbows and gave Louis a look that was indescribable. One Louis had never seen before in his life--from anyone--ever. It thrilled him--and challenged him--all at the same time.

"Do you trust me, Louis?" Harry asked next. Finally, Louis thought, a simple one. 

"Yes," Louis responded quickly--almost without thought. Harry eyed him carefully--accessing him--deciding. Harry used one of his hands to grab the base of his cock and angled it down a bit, then continued.

"Open." 

And Louis did. 

"Fall forward." 

And Louis froze. 

Harry watched as his brain worked it out. He couldn't use his hands--and he couldn't scoot up. And Harry was too far up and away from him for his abs to be of any use. He would have to do exactly what Harry requested. He would have to literally fall forward. Would he choke around Harry's cock? Would Harry catch him, first? Help him? His brain fought it--but his body wanted it. And the two sensations only made his cock harder. And Harry hadn't moved, hadn't given any further instructions to make things any easier. And then Louis remembered Harry's last question, and his brain finally gave in to what his body wanted. Louis was absolutely shaking--willing himself to comply. He leaned forward, slowly at first, and got about half way. It was as far as his abs could support him--and he didn't know how long he could hold the position. 

"Fall," Harry whispered, "Let go." 

And Louis did. And just when he Harry's cock entered his open mouth, he felt Harry catch him under his shoulders. Harry shifted up on his knees--pushing backwards so that Louis could get his balance back and do the same--before he let go of his shoulders and allowed Louis to set his own pace. And just when Louis thought he was going to be allowed some control--Harry scooted back a bit--causing Louis to fall forward enough to throw him off balance again. But instead of catching him this time, like Louis was expecting, Harry grabbed two handfuls of hair, leaned back further, and fucked up into Louis' mouth. The first push was deep--and Louis choked around him--but after that Harry figured out just the right length to feed to Louis so it wouldn't happen again---and set a steady, forceful, satisfying rhythm. When he was almost ready to release, he pulled Louis up and kissed him sloppily on the mouth.

"OK, Lou," Harry questioned quickly, but seriously.

"Yeah...just...give me more..."

"Of course," Harry smirked out. "You want to choke on it, Louis? Want me to fuck your mouth, love?"

"Yes," Louis nodded.

"Yes, what?" Harry smirked out--jerking Louis' head up and holding eye contact.

"Fuck my mouth." Louis finally let out, his typical blush absent this time. 

"Gonna come on your pretty face, Louis," was all Harry could manage out before scooting back farther and holding steady until Louis fell forward onto him--allowing Harry to take what he wanted. 

Harry watched in a combination of awe and bliss as Louis took what Harry fed him. Harry alternated between shallow, quick strokes and deep, slower ones. And he wasn't surprised at all when Louis would suck--hard--when Harry didn't push in too deep--and swirl his tongue and dip into his slit. But he was shocked to the core as Louis figured out how to open his throat when he'd push in deep. Eventually, he'd only gag if Harry went to fast--messed with his timing--and Harry did that just to keep him off balance--but when Louis finally swallowed around him--his throat muscles working against the head of Harry's cock for the first time--Harry lost it. He twisted his hands into his boyfriends hair that little bit harder, jerked him up, and released mostly all over his lower lip and chin--though Harry's sure the first few spurts were in Louis' mouth. 

"Jesus, Lou. Look at you," Harry managed to mumble out, as he twisted his legs out sideways and laid Louis' upper body across his chest. Louis was an absolute mess. Probably more of a mess than Harry had been earlier in the kitchen.

"Fuck, Haz," Louis mumbled hoarsely, his throat sore from the past fifteen minutes.

Carefully, Louis sat up and Harry did the same, reaching off the side of his futon to grab an old shirt. Carefully, he cleaned his boyfriend and threw the shirt back on the floor. 

"My god, Lou. That was really intense."

Louis just nodded up at Harry--his eyes still a bit watery--and began to grin. "Uhm....yeah....intense." 

"Intense, but good, right?" Harry asked--hoping it was. "I mean, Christ, Louis...you are just so bloody good at everything you try. It's a little bit frightening, to be honest, love."

"Wow," Louis whispered out, shaking his head. "I never knew sex could be like this."

"Me, either," Harry shot back honestly, before he really thought about the words. 

"Wait...what? What do you mean?" Louis questioned. "You've...uh...done this kind of stuff before, right?"

"Nope," Harry smirked out--half amused, half embarrassed.

"What? Then how did you know what to say, Harry. How did you know how to make me feel that way--do that?" Louis asked, surprised.

"I didn't. I was just going with it. Whatever I wanted to say...I just said it. And god, Louis...you did it...you trusted me and you just did it."

"I wanted you to be happy with me. Wanted to be good for you...or something. Like the way you were for me this morning. Wanted you to feel that good, Haz." Louis explained. 

"You know you could have stopped or said no, right?" Harry asked. "Because I wouldn't ever want you to do something for me just because you think I want it." 

"No....it wasn't like that. It was so weird, Haz. It was like my brain and my body were at war--but my body won--or....or...I don't really know how to explain. It was brilliant, whatever it was."

"Brilliant?" Harry echoed, the concern gone from his voice and a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. 

"Yes. Bloody brilliant," Louis responded, eyeing Harry carefully. "You know what else would be brilliant right now?"

"What?" Harry asked cautiously--pretending to be worried about anything Louis would say or ask. 

"Your hand on my cock. I'm still so fucking hard, Harry. It's really unbelievable. I have no idea how I'm going to make it through school on Monday." 

"Well, I don't know about Monday, but right now, I think you're safe. Come here, love," Harry requested softly, pulling Louis into a gentle, sweet, lingering kiss. "Lay down and let me take care of you." 

And Louis did. And Harry's mouth was soft, sweet, slow and perfect. And when Louis pulled one of Harry's hands up and sucked on two of his fingers, Harry thought he might come just from the sight of it. And when Louis spread his legs and and pulled his knees up, Harry very nearly did. Harry opened him up teasingly slow--only grazing his spot every now and then--until Louis begged him--out loud--to get on with it--to make him come. And when he finally begged, Harry pushed and pulled across his spot and sucked him down to the back of his throat and swallowed all that Louis could give. 

"I can't wait to get my fingers in you," Louis mumbled out, once he recovered enough to speak. "Can't wait to watch you fall apart like that. I know you'll look so beautiful when you do, Hazzah. I just know you will." 

Harry chuckled and pulled Louis up and threw him back in the shower--alone, this time--so that he could order pizza and find The Incredible Hulk--but not the one that sucked, Harry laughed to himself, grinning the whole time--as he completed his tasks and thought about what Louis' fingers would feel like. And Harry would have spent a lot more time thinking about it if he knew it'd be over a month before he'd actually know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then. That was something. Kinda personal, actually. I usually don't blend the two---fan fic and real life---but I did a bit here. Hope it was OK XD :P


	19. Fuck.

As Harry lay awake in his bed Sunday morning, he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how he was ever going to sleep again, without Louis next to him. And he knew he was way to young to think such things--he never thought about it with Mark. He frowned to himself at the thought of his parents and sister getting back home in a few hours. And the frown deepened when he thought of sleeping without Louis curled around him for the forseeable future. Back to being kids, Harry thought, as he let one hand stroke down through Louis' mess of hair that was once again smattered across his belly. Harry thought it was so damn cute that no matter how they fell asleep, Louis ended up with his cheek on his belly--curled in on himself--one hand twisted up between Harry's thigh--and the other, between his own. It was so fucking precious when he was asleep--or awake, really. Didn't matter. And Harry knew he'd have to get a hold of himself, soon. But the thing is, he didn't want to. He wanted to spend every day curled up next to Louis. He desperately wanted to hold his hand and walk him to class, hell, he'd even carry his books like some schoolgirl. Honestly. But deep down he knew that wasn't going to happen. And then there was the team. And Zayn. No telling what was gong on, there. Harry sent up a silent prayer that Stan would actually help on that front--but he doubted it would go as well as Louis was hoping. 

"Haz?" Louis mumbled, rubbing his now stubbly cheek across Harry's belly as he turned his body to face him. "Time is it?"

"Early," Harry sighed out, "but my family will be back before lunch...and you've got kick around in an hour...so."

"Practice. Right," Louis breathed out, body tensing. Harry could tell that he didn't want to go.

"You gotta go, Lou," Harry worded carefully--trying to sound matter-of-fact when his insides were anything but. "And so do I."

"I know," Louis nodded out--scratching Harry again. "And my gear's at home. I need to go shower and get everything."

Harry tensed up, himself--and he knew Louis felt it. But he just waited. Louis was either going to ask him to go with him, or not. 

"Meet me up there, then?" Louis asked--but his face told the story. The tightened jaw and the too-tightly closed eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. 

"Why can't we go together?" Harry let out, before he could stop himself. 

Louis twisted his body away and sat up on the bed next to Harry and took him in--thinking. 

"Harry...." Louis started. But Harry cut him off.

"You and me. We're together, Louis. Right? And how long do you think this is going to last if we always put other people before this?" Harry rushed out--arms gesturing back and forth between him and Louis. "You are my boyfriend. And I'm in love with you. Look--I understand we won't be able to kiss, or hold hands, even. I get that. But I don't see any reason why we have to stay away from each other completely. I just don't, Lou."

"We won't Harry," Louis said--the words coming out a little harder than Harry would have liked. "Promise. But the team...I think it would be best if I go up alone. I want to feel things out."

"So do I," Harry mumbled to himself. "This effects both of us, Louis."

"I know it does. Just. Fuck, Harry. I just don't know what's going to happen. What if Stan's changed his mind? What if Zayn....I don't know."

"No. What if Zayn what, Louis? What are you worried about?" Harry questioned intently--eyes never leaving his boyfriend. "I can handle Zayn."

"Look," Louis said, shaking his head. "I'm going up early. You come up on time, like always. Let's just see how this goes. Please."

The pleading tone to Louis' voice did nothing to convince Harry he was right. 

"Fine, Lou." Harry whispered, eyes dropping down to his hands. "We'll do this your way."

"Good." Louis breathed out, shoulders dropping a bit.

"For now," Harry said, eyes back on Louis. And then he climbed out of bed and shut the bathroom door behind him. And when he was finished, Louis was gone.

**********************************************************************************************

Harry wandered around his house after getting ready, just thinking. He did some chores--dishes and sheets--and was just about to start the short walk to the fields when he heard a car pull into his drive. He glanced at the hallway clock, but he knew it was too early for his parents to be back, so he walked back through the kitchen and hit the garage button. Zayn was leaning up against his car--ankles crossed--seemingly lost in thought. Harry carefully took him in, looked around to make sure he was alone, and walked out to meet him. When Zayn just nodded to him, Harry leaned up against the car next to him and waited. It probably should have been really awkward, all things considered, but it wasn't. And Harry wasn't even surprised when he felt Zayn's hand on his shoulder. 

"Styles....I....uh..." Zayn started, clearly unsure of himself. But Harry wasn't going to let him off the hook. Not after all the bullshit he started. So, as usual, he just waited. 

"I know you think I'm a total dick," Zayn tried again, "and I guess I am. But there's like, you know, reasons why? And I was hoping you'd...uh...let me explain?"

Harry turned his body slightly so that he could get a look at Zayn's face. He seemed sincere. But Harry'd thought that before, so his guard was definitely up. Instead of answering him, he just nodded for him to continue. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to listen to him or break his face-but Harry had a feeling that Zayn was still important to Louis. 

"Is that a yes, then, mate?" Zayn questioned--a touch too harsh for Harry's liking--but he ignored it. 

"Sure. I'm all ears. But you need to know I'm listening because of Louis. If it were up to me, you could fuck off back to wherever you've been the past three days."

"Fair enough," Zayn tensed out. He clearly wasn't used to someone not easily going along with whatever he asked.

"Come on, then," Harry answered, leading the way over to the two porch chairs that seldom got used. They were mostly for show--like Zayn--Harry thought flippantly. 

Once they sat down, Harry stretched out long and lean, while Zayn sat curled in on himself like Louis was prone to do, and the thought tugged at his heart. He just wanted to get to the fields. But he told himself this was important, too. So he looked over at Zayn and nodded once again. 

"Ok. Look, Styles. I don't know how much you really know about what goes on around here, but things aren't....uh...exactly how they appear. For starters......"

*********************************************************************************************************************

Harry didn't make it to the fields at all that morning. Instead, he sat, frozen, in the cheap plastic chair on his front porch--unable to move. He was too lost in thought to do anything else.

**************************************************************************************************************************

It took Harry some time to put his fragmented thoughts in order. A lot of time. And when he saw Louis on his caller ID, he let it roll to voice mail. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to him--it was just that he didn't know what to say. Zayn had totally fucked with his head. And that wasn't easy to do. At least it never used to be. But this situation was seriously fucked up--and Harry knew he was in over his head. He'd never felt more fifteen in his life. And when his dad walked out and sat in the empty chair next to him--all the pent up emotions of the past three days came crashing down around him--and he cried like the kid that, deep down, he really was. 

"Harry, son. What is it?" his dad asked, clearly concerned. It wasn't like Harry to sit crying on the front porch. 

Harry looked up and wiped his face--and took in the concerned look on his dad's face. And he knew that this conversation would test their limits. Harry sent up a silent prayer that his dad truly meant that he could handle everything, because Harry had no where else to turn--no one else to talk to--or trust. Except maybe for Louis. At least he hoped so. Still. Maybe forever. But this was going to test that--there was no way around it. It was going to test everything. 

"God, dad. I'm so lost here. I'm really lost. I need your help," Harry finally answered back. 

"I'm here, Harry. I'm here for you. Just tell me what's going on," Dez prodded carefully, clearly concerned. More concerned than he'd been for Harry in years. "But let's get out of here. What do you say? Let's just get in the car and go for a drive and get away from here for a while. How does that sound?" 

"Brilliant, actually," Harry responded, "I can't wait to get away from here, even if it's just for a little bit." 

Harry's father nodded at him, shook the keys in the air, and stood up. Harry followed quietly and strapped himself in, having no idea where they would end up--or where he should begin. But he had to trust his dad. So after a good fifteen minutes of silence, and after the town slipped out of view, Harry began. 

"Thanks, dad. I really needed this," Harry began quietly, still staring out the window. "But I don't even know where to start. And, to be honest, I don't know if you can handle it." 

"I told you, Harry. I can handle anything. You're just going to have to trust me," Dez prodded, glancing over at his son. "I can take it." 

"I hope you're right, cause I'm really fucked up. And I don't know what to do anymore." 

"Does this have anything to do with Louis?" Dez asked, and Harry could tell that his father was anxious for Harry to just get on with it. So he did. 

"Here's the thing. I'm in love with him. I mean it. I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not Mark, not anyone." 

"So why is that a problem?" Dez questioned, turning in to a park area. "You've been spending a lot of time together, right?" 

"Yeah, we have. And then two nights ago things got really serious," Harry tiptoed lightly, just testing. 

"Serious as in sex, Harry?" Dez responded neutrally. 

"Yeah," Harry nodded, sitting up once his dad parked the car. 

"Did things not go the way you thought they would? Is that why you are upset?" 

"No....nothing like that. It was perfect, actually. Louis was perfect, dad." Harry replied sheepishly--holding eye contact with his father. 

"Perfect, huh?" Dez questioned. "Then why are you so messed up about it?" 

Harry shrugged and got out of the car and walked down to the small duck pond in front of him and found a bench and sat. His dad followed him, sat next to him, and threw an arm over his shoulder. And they just sat there for the better part of an hour, staring at the ducks and enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. 

"You know, I thought that love was supposed to be easy," Harry questioned out quietly, reaching up to grab his dad's hand that was thrown over his shoulder. "Isn't it?" 

"Whatever gave you that idea?" his father laughed quietly. 

"You and mom make it look pretty easy," Harry smiled out. "You never seem to have any problems with it." 

"Harry," Dez smiled, "we've been at it for a good number of years now. I think we've figured a few things out along the way. You and Louis, you're just getting started. You're not supposed to have it all figured out. Not by a long shot." 

Harry nodded along, taking everything in. But his faced darkened again faster than his father would have liked. 

"So what if, you know, back when you and mom were just starting out, or whatever, you found out that she lied to you?" Harry mumbled, more to himself than to his father. "Would it have changed the way you felt about her?" 

"I don't know, Harry. I guess that would depend on how big the lie was, and if the lie was about something important or not. Did Louis lie to you?" 

"Yeah. He did," Harry admitted--and saying it out loud made Harry's insides churn. 

"So, was it something big or something small? Did he lie about his feelings or about something that happened in the past that he can't change?" 

"What does that matter?" Harry questioned, turning to face his father. "A lie is a lie, right?" 

"I don't know, Harry. Not always. Why don't you tell me what he lied about and then we can work it out together." 

"He lied about me being the first guy he was with, dad. He lied about that. And I have no idea what to do, dad. Tell me, please." 

"I don't know what to say, Harry. I mean, I guess that you have to decide how important that was to you. I mean, you and Mark..." Dez trailed off, taking in his son. 

"Yeah...but I told him about Mark. I told him everything about Mark--and it wasn't easy, dad. And I probably didn't have to, either. But I did. And I just can't understand why he didn't tell me. He had every opportunity to do it, but he chose to lie, dad. He chose to lie to me." 

"No, he chose not to tell you." Dez corrected quickly. "There's a difference." 

"I don't see how," Harry grumbled, turning in on himself. "It's not like it would have changed anything. It wouldn't have changed what I was feeling at the time." 

"Well...maybe he was just scared. Or maybe he didn't know how to explain it. Was it with someone you know? Someone you see all the time?" 

"Yeah, it is. And here's the really fucked up part dad. It's one of his best friends. And on top of that, it's one of his best friends that helped us get together. You should have seen the show he put on...pretending that he was such the perfect mate. Pretending that he didn't want to see us together, that he couldn't handle it....when all along the two of them...." Harry trailed off, tears beginning to drip yet again from the corners of his already red, tired eyes. 

"Well," Dez continued, "how did you find out about Louis and this other boy?" 

"Zayn told me," Harry shrugged, still not liking the fact that Zayn always seemed to hold the upper hand. "Told me today, before kick around. I didn't even go, dad. I just sat on the porch like some punk fifteen year old who couldn't handle his shit." 

"Harry, you are fifteen. Or did you forget?" Dez chided. "You don't have to have all the answers. Life isn't that easy." 

Harry nodded again at his father and leaned back to stretch his hands up over his head. It was starting to get dark and he had school the next day--and he didn't want to go. At all. 

"So what do I do?" Harry asked, staring up at the clouds. 

"Well, I guess you have to decide on a few things about yourself." 

"Myself?" Harry questioned. "Don't you mean Louis?" 

"No, I don't," Dez corrected. "I mean you. Yourself. You're phone's been buzzing for the past two hours, and you haven't checked it once, Harry. And who do you suppose is calling you? Have you even talked to Louis? Got his side? Have you even asked him to explain the deal?" 

"Dad...." Harry cautioned, "it's not that easy." 

"I think it is. You need to talk to him. If you love him as much as you say you do....you owe him at least that. Especially after what happened this weekend, son. I know you...and I know you would have never let things go...well....there.....if it didn't mean as much to you as it did for him. Am I right?" 

"Of course you are, but that's no excuse. I don't care if he's been with someone else, dad. But why go through the whole charade? Why make it seem that way?" 

"Look, Harry. I don't have an answer for that. Maybe he regrets it? Maybe it wasn't right....maybe he wasn't in love? I don't know. Those are questions that only he can answer. You need to talk to him. Soon. The longer you wait, the worse this is going to be. Trust me on that one. Your mom and I have a rule....never go to bed angry. Talk it out, Harry." 

"But what if I don't get what I need out of the conversation? What if his explanation isn't enough for me? What do I do then?" 

"Oh," Dez answered, rising from the bench and stretching his own arms over his head, "I think you'll figure it out. I guess no matter what he says, you'll have to decide whether you can forgive him or not." 

Harry thought about that for a long time--almost the entire drive back. Thankfully, his dad didn't want to talk--he just let Harry think. And when they pulled into the driveway, Harry finally took out his phone. Six missed calls. Five texts. All from Louis except one. The third text was from the one person he really didn't want to ever see or hear from again in his life. 

H. We need to talk. Please call me. Stan. 

Fucking perfect, Harry thought to himself as he turned his phone off, left it in the kitchen, and climbed upstairs to curl up and be left alone.


	20. The one with the explanation....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this would be the last chapter, but It seems I've found my way back into this story. Sorry the last chapter sucked--school was winding down and I didn't really have time to write properly. I hope this chapter is better. Should be four or five more, depending. Got it all planned out and....it's Summer Break! So I have time to write. As always, your feedback is welcome! Hope you enjoy it!

Harry woke up in a thick, heavy fog. To be honest, he woke up in the same fog he fell asleep under--a fog that clouded his judgment and numbed his senses. He felt dead. And he secretly wondered if he could get out of bed and even think about going to school. He really didn’t want to go--but the ever present voice in his head told him he had to. And he always listened to Mark’s voice...especially when it came to his schooling. Shrugging himself out of his covers, Harry sat up and managed to get his bearings. God he wished he saw Louis’ fine brown hair littered across his belly when he woke up. The thought made him both cringe in pain and curl in on himself in longing. He missed Louis. There was no denying that fact. And sometime deep in the night Harry figured out that he didn’t care if Louis had been with someone else--that it didn’t change the way he felt about him. He knew nothing ever could. Especially something that happened in the past, before he even knew him. It was the lying part that was nagging at him, though. And nagging hard. For the life of him, Harry couldn’t figure out why he did it. Harry’d poured his heart out--had the difficult conversation--and managed not to lie. It wasn’t easy, but he’d done it. And he just couldn’t get past the fact that Louis hadn’t done the same. 

As tired as he was, Harry tried to focus on the day ahead. He had a relatively easy Monday coming up. No tests. No papers. He could make it through that. So, for the first time in his life, Harry grabbed some clothes off his floor and threw them on. He didn’t care how he looked--but halfway out his door, his pasty mouth got the better of him, and he turned to rinse, at least. It was going to be a very long day, he thought, as he made his way downstairs. He smelled bacon, and that could only mean his dad was cooking--probably for his benefit--but even bacon couldn’t pull him out of his haze. But as he entered the kitchen, what he saw sure did. 

Louis. 

The sight of him punched all the air out of his gut. And Harry had to purse his lips together hard to stop the watering in his eyes. He grabbed the counter, hard, to keep from falling over--and looked over at his father. He’d never had this strong of a physical reaction to anything in his life--and it scared him to death. He felt like he was dangling over a precipice--suspended only by barbed-wire. And without anything to stop it, the water that had pooled in his eyes at the sight of his boyfriend began to moisten his cheeks. And just when Harry thought he might fall, it was Louis that held him up--pulling him close--not unlike the way he’d done a few nights ago for Louis in his kitchen. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you to it,” Harry’s father announced humbly, still adjusting to the sight before him. “Why don’t you two sit down and eat.” 

And as Dez made his way out of the room, he made eye contact with Harry and mouthed one word--talk. Harry nodded and let Louis lead him to the table. It seemed like forever since they’d sat there eating--when, in actuality, it had only been a couple of days. The thought was comforting. And as Harry’s memory took him back to that moment, a smile spread across his face. He remembered how anxious Louis was--and how beautiful he looked when he practically begged Harry to get on with it. And right then, Harry knew he’d forgive him--forgive it all--no matter what. But Louis would have to tell him the truth. If he could do that, everything could be alright again.

Harry didn’t feel like eating, but he made a plate anyway--more to give himself something to do. Louis followed his lead and the two sat in silence and ate for a few long minutes--each sneaking glances at the other in between sips and bites. 

“Remember the last time we ate in here?” Louis started, holding eye contact for the first time since they both sat down. 

“Course,” Harry mumbled out over a mouth full of bacon. “I’ll never forget that, Lou. Never.”

“Me either,” Louis mumbled out, blush spreading across his cheeks. 

Harry lay his fork down and sat back in his chair, taking Louis in. And when Louis looked back up at him, Harry noticed he wasn’t the only one with leaky eyes. But Harry needed Louis to do this on his own. So he waited--and watched--as Louis struggled with himself. It took everything inside of Harry not to rush over to him and hold him and tell him everything was alright--because it wasn’t--not yet, anyway. Finally, Louis nodded to himself, wiped his eyes, sat up straight--and began. 

“Harry, I talked to Shelley last night...and she told me….uh...she told me….” Louis began, but ended up lowering his head down into his arms that he had neatly folded on the table. Harry just waited. “What Zayn said to you isn’t a lie….but it isn’t exactly true, either.”

“Didn’t think it was,” Harry responded quietly. “I don’t trust him, not really.”

“That’s good,” Louis nodded as he lifted his head to look at Harry. 

“So which part was the lie and which part was true?” Harry asked as he tried to keep his breath even and under control as anger seeped back through his body.

Louis shook his head. “Me and Stan….we’ve never...uh...well....he used to let me….oh my god?” 

“Oh my god what, Louis?” Harry worded out more harshly than he intended. But he wanted to get this out in the open--and then behind them. 

“Watch,” Louis whispered with downcast eyes. “He would let me watch.”

“Watch him do what, Lou?”

“Harry, please. Just…”

“No. No just. Tell me. Tell me all of it. Or this…..this is done.” Harry whispered out--not believing his own words. “I told you everything, Louis. And it was damn hard--but I did it. I didn’t want to begin….this….with a lie. But you did….and now you have to make amends, Louis. You have to fix it...please tell me you want to fix it.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” Louis responded, a little harsher than Harry would’ve liked. But Harry let it slide. This was clearly very difficult for Louis--but there was no way around it--or out of it. It simply had to happen. 

“Suppose you are, Lou. But you’ve got to get through this. Tell me. Now.” 

“And what if I can’t?” Louis asked, eyes cast downward again. And for the first time Harry realized that Louis was ashamed. Not scared….ashamed. And Harry quickly realized that that was the one emotion he never wanted Louis to feel--ever. He’d spent too much of his life feeling that way, already--and Harry wanted no part in ever making him feel that way again. 

“Lou?” Harry whispered, rising from his chair and walking over to his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s go up and work this out, OK? Please….you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything. And you don’t have to be….ashamed….of anything. You can trust me.”

“I do trust you. But this….thing...that happened...I don’t want you to think less of me for it…” Louis stammered out, letting Harry pull him up. 

“Not going to happen,” Harry comforted. “Just give me a second--I need to tell my dad I’m not going to make it to school today. See if he’ll call for me. I think he will.”

Louis just nodded and made his way up to Harry’s room--he knew the way--and when he talked to his father, Dez quickly agreed to help with school, wiped his son’s eyes--and left for work after giving his son a quick warning about being alone in the house with his boyfriend. Harry rolled his eyes and hugged him--hard--and went upstairs to help Louis finish what he’d started. 

When Harry made his way back up to his room, he found Louis sitting on his bed, hugging his knees. He looked so incredibly small to Harry--hardly big enough to be team captain of a footie team. It made his heart ache. It made him want to cuddle him into oblivion, actually. But that would have to wait. Harry walked over to the bed and practically sat on Louis’ feet--and encased Louis within his legs and arms. It felt much more intimate than Harry initially intended--but for the life of him he couldn’t pull himself away. Louis just curled into it, took a deep breath and began. 

“I really don’t know how to get this all out, but I’m going to do my best. Just promise you won’t get mad? Or judge me? Or Stan? It really wasn’t something that he’d want anyone to know about...especially you. He likes you--keeps going on and on about how good you are for me. Says he sees how happy you make me.”

“I won’t judge you, Louis. You have my word. Earlier you said Zayn wasn’t exactly lying, but he wasn’t exactly telling the truth either…..what did you mean by that?” Harry asked. He was hoping Louis would open up. 

“The first time it happened….it was kind of a spur of the moment thing…” Louis started.

“First time? It happened more than once?” Harry interrupted, immediately chiding himself for it. But bleeding christ, he hadn’t been expecting that. Louis seemed to sense it, as well. 

“Harry, please. Let me tell you everything, OK? All of it. Let me get through it and then I’ll answer any questions that you have. I promise I will. Just please don’t stop me again--if you do I might not be able to get through it?” Louis asked through wet, pleading eyes. Harry nodded at him to continue. 

“So yeah. The first time it happened was sorta by accident, really. It was at one of Stan’s parties...everyone was drunk--including me. Shelley and I had gotten into it after a particularly poor snog session--totally my fault, that--so I wandered upstairs into Stan’s bathroom. It was like the only quiet place in the house, and totally off-limits to guests, so I thought I would go in there and be alone for a while. I sat down on the floor next to the shower and was just planning to chill--but then Stan and Becks came stumbling through the door--already half naked--and well on their way with the rest. I knew I should have said something--or got up to leave--I just...didn’t. And by the time Becks and Stan realized I was there, they didn’t seem to care. They just….uh...carried on. And when they...uh...finished? Becks winked at me on the way out and Stan smiled over at me and shrugged….just shrugged, like it was nothing. I guess at that point, it really wasn’t anything...but still. His nonchalance about the whole thing excited me, Harry. It did. I know it might sound sick, but watching them….watching him….turned me on. I totally admit that. And after they left I couldn’t keep my hand off myself. So, yeah….how sick is that?”

Harry lifted Louis’ chin up with a finger and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth--a reassuring kiss--not the kind that would lead anywhere. And then he used his thumbs to wipe Louis’ cheeks and nodded at him to continue. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest, but he promised Lou he wouldn’t interrupt. 

“You know, looking back on it now, I knew it wasn’t about Becks at all. She’s gorgeous--and she has like no limits when it comes to sex, but I didn’t really get turned on by that. Not even by her willingness. It’s weird, right? And christ, Harry….the next week...things...uh...got...well, things changed. I can’t say that I was planning on anything happening this time, but I think Becks did. And I know she saw me when I went upstairs--and before I was even in Stan’s bathroom for a minute--in they come. Becks just smiled at me again--and Stan just shrugged at me again--and on they went. Except this time Becks pulled me up and pointed to the counter and told me to sit down so she could watch me...uh...get off….while they….yeah. But I couldn’t get there. I mean, Stan had her bent over the counter. I could see everything, but I just couldn’t get there. And then she looks back at Stan and nods, and my god, Harry. I think this is one of the reasons I didn’t want to watch porn with you. It would remind me of what I...watched….of what I...let happen? See, after Becks nodded at Stan, he used his thumb to open her up….her...uh...yeah...and when he pushed into her---I just kind of….well...let’s just say I got there in a hurry. I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

“Louis, look at me,” Harry prompted, lifting Louis into his lap. “So you watched two of your friends have sex--so what? Plenty of people have done that. Hell, I’ve even done it. It’s not that big of a deal. Really. From what I can tell, Becky has known who you are for a very long time, and Stan told me he has, too. Since you were little. Maybe they were doing all of this on purpose...ya know? Well, Becks probably was…dunno about Stan, really. Maybe they were trying to...uh...help?”

“Maybe,” Louis mumbled into Harry’s shoulder. “But there was one other thing that happened. The next week.”

“Look Louis, I don’t care if Stan fucked Becks in her ass over the back of the toilet seat--it’s fine. I get it. I don’t need to hear anything else. I can see why you didn’t want to tell me any of this...and I’m still pissed that you lied...but you haven’t said anything I haven’t already forgiven you for….”

“Harry wait,” Louis interrupted. “There was one more time.”

“Lou, love….I don’t want to hear anymore about Stan and Becks…”

“That’s just it,” Louis interrupted quickly. “….the last time it happened? Becks wasn’t there.”

Harry immediately froze. Here it was. All of it--and he didn’t really know if he could handle hearing it. He told himself he could--promised Louis that he would--but now he wasn’t so sure. 

“Tell me, then,” Harry jumbled out--afraid of what he was going to hear. He’d convinced himself it didn’t matter if Louis had been with fifty other guys--now, though...he wasn’t so sure. He released Louis and scooted back a bit so that he could get a good look at his face--and for the millionth time since he’d known him--he waited. 

Louis scooted back a bit, himself, and once again wrapped his arms around his own knees and rested his chin on them. He gave Harry a quick, assessing look, and seriously wondered if he should even start. But Harry nodded at him, and right at the moment he understood what being in a real relationship was all about. He never got it with Shelley--but who could really blame him for that? This was the first relationship he’d ever been in. And he knew that he had to tell Harry the truth. If he couldn’t trust him--or be trusted by him--then what was the point? 

“It’s really hard, this,” Louis said--his blue eyes seeking green. And when he found them, they gave him the courage he needed to continue. “So there I was….back in Stan’s bathroom two weeks later...waiting for them to come in. I have to admit that I totally planned it this time. Hell, I was even looking forward to it. After months and months of nothing...well, obviously. And I got to watch a guy, Harry. I can’t explain how much I wanted that...maybe even needed that. And, looking back, I don’t think it was Stan, specifically. I mean, I’m not actually attracted to him...never have been. But watching him, a guy, having sex….it was…was...like getting high for the first time…. or getting drunk on your parent’s whiskey in year eight. It was wrong..but exciting. Intoxicating….ya know? But when Stan walked in….alone….everything just went to another level. At first I was really confused...but then Stan walked over to me and put his hand on my shoulder…………..

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Is this OK then?” Stan asked quietly. “If it’s just you and me? Becks ain’t here, but I was wondering about something, and I thought it might be alright...if it was….uh...just us two?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

…………...and asked me if I’d be alright with it just being us….without Becky. He said he was wondering about something, so I asked what it was………….

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
“Look, Louis. I have to admit...I really like it when you watch us….uh...me? Is it me that you’re watching? It is, isn’t it? Because if it is...I thought we could watch each other. I mean, if that’s OK. I don’t know exactly how it’ll go for me...but after the past couple of weeks….I sorta want to see? Is that too weird?”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
………………………..and after he told me….I have to be honest, here...I was into it. The thing was….he...uh….wasn’t…..

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked, after noticing Stan’s lack of arousal. 

“Nothing...I guess I’m just not into this. I thought maybe….after how I felt when I saw you come last week….but...sorry….I guess I’m just not into it like that. But I can see you are...and that’s OK Louis….really...it doesn’t bother me. I think I like to watch….or be watched….oh god….I’m sorry….this was a bad idea.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
………………………..into it...the same way I was….ya know? It was so embarrassing, Harry. I was hard and he was just standing there. I felt like a complete fucking idiot. That was the closest thing to the real thing I’d ever experienced….until you…..and I was kinda devastated. So I turned around, embarrassed--and still fucking hard. And Stan must have seen it on me. But he wasn’t having any of it. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Louis. It’s OK. I’m not embarrassed, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Stan walked over to Louis and put his arms around his friend and snuggled into his back and neck--sensing his best friend in all the world needed to be comforted. Maybe more than that. 

“Look...just because I’m not into it...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer, mate. Go on then,” Stan whispered into Louis ear--his breath hot. “I can help you get there….want to.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

…………..christ, he was pressed up against me. I could feel his breath on my neck and in my ear….and then he wrapped his arms around my chest tighter….and I just closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the feeling of it. Of being held by another guy. I remember the door opening at some point, and Stan yelling something and kicking it back shut--but I never put two and two together until last night. Zayn must have seen us like….that. So it makes sense that he thought we were….uh….doing that. But we weren’t. It was intimate--and him being there for me...like that….was something else. And, I have to admit...it definitely got me all the way there...but when I was done…..Stan just shrugged at me…………

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Well, that was really something, Tomlinson,” Stan smiled out. 

“Yeah?” Louis laughed back--all the sexual tension--what little there was--had drained away completely. 

“Sure. I mean, let’s not make this weird, OK? I’m really sorry. I thought….well….I’m not sure what I thought….I guess after the past few weeks….and after being with Trace and Becks, that I….uh….still had a lot to figure out about myself.”

“Wait. What? You were with Trace and Becks? LIke at the same time?”

“Guilty,” Stan replied--grinning from ear to ear. “Quite a lot, actually. Please don’t be mad at me--I really did think….maybe….but no.”

“I get it,” Louis finished, finally cleaned up and dressed. “But you may want to pull your pants back up if that’s the case, mate.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

………………..And that was it, Harry. We hugged each other and promised to keep what happened just between us, and went on with things. We never talked about it again. It never happened again...any of it...not even the watching part. I think, in a way, we both used each other--but that was ok because it wasn’t one-sided, ya know? He needed to figure something out about himself and I….well…..I think I was just craving to be myself. And then four months later you moved here and all hell broke loose. Within me, at least.”

Harry took his first breath in what felt like forever. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. 

“So you didn’t have sex with Stan?”

“No. We didn’t do that. He did...help me...and I admit that it was special. But I wasn’t in love. And Mark was right….about that….some things aren’t meant to be shared unless you’re in love. And I’m in love with you. And I hope you still love me….even after hearing about how pathetic I am...was…..whatever.” 

“Lou, you’re not pathetic. Now...or then. This place is really crazy….I can’t imagine growing up here and being who I am….I would have lost it. I’m glad you told me everything. Now I can go kick Malik’s scrawny ass and not feel guilty about it.”

“Yeah...I guess he’s got it coming. But I’m pretty sure Stan’s probably going to beat you to it. He’s had all he can take of Zayn,” Louis smiled out. “So….if we’re not going to school….then what do you think we should do with our day?”

“Oh no, Tomlinson. Don’t think you’re going to get off that easy. I’m still right pissed at you,” Harry cautioned. “I forgive you. And yes, by the way, I love you, too. Still and always…..but I need some time to process everything. So as for the rest of the day….I think we should go to school.”

“School? Really, Harry?” Louis sounded truly shocked, and a bit mischevious. But Harry was having none of it. 

“Yes, Lou. School. You’re going to have to give me some time...like I said.”

“Build trust back?” Louis worded...more to himself than to Harry. “I get that. I can do that. Totally. But can I ask you one favor? Just one?”

“What is it Lou?” Harry sighed out, pretending to be annoyed, but not pulling it off very well. 

“Can I hold my boyfriend’s hand in the hallway today? Maybe walk him to class?”

Harry shrugged and tried to play it cool--but Louis knew better. And if Harry allowed Louis a little cuddle before they left--that was their private business. 

***********************************************************************************

The walk to school was very, very short. Much shorter than Harry ever remembered it being. And Harry knew the reason why. Today he was walking into the Lion’s den. But he was doing it hand-in-hand with his companion-in-prey--so that made it a little better. At least they’d be eaten alive together. And as the thought of being eaten alive rambled through Harry's brain, and made him wonder what Louis would taste like…..he couldn’t hold in a laugh. 

“What in the hell’s so funny?” Louis asked--clearly as nervous as Harry was. 

“Well….to be honest….I was thinking about how you would taste….ya know...seeing as how we’re about to be eaten alive and all…”

“Harry, first of all, we’ll be fine. We’re together. And second of all--you already know how I taste,” Louis stated confidently. 

“Hmmmmm…..not exactly,” Harry teased.

“Harry...what are you on about? You’ve had me in your mouth...you know what I taste like,” Louis announced, stopping to turn and face his walking companion. “You’ve swallowed it.” 

“Yes, love. I have, in fact, had you in my mouth. And yes, sweetheart, I have swallowed your lovely come. But that is not the flavor I’m talking about….” Harry singsonged as he started walking towards school again, swinging Louis’s hand and arm back and forth like they were year threes. “There’s something else I’m thinking of at the moment. OMG. ATM. At the moment...ATM…..”

Louis watched as Harry laughed harder than he’d ever seen him laugh. He was actually doubled over and crying-- he was laughing that hard. All Louis could do is watch. 

“Have you totally lost it, Haz? What the hell are you on about? ATM? You need to go get cash? I have extra if you’re short for lunch…”

That only made Harry laugh harder. 

“Oh my god, Lou. You are in sooooooo much trouble. Seriously. I can’t even explain….” Harry finally got out after catching his breath. “Just wait.”

Louis just shook his head and pulled a still giggling Harry up the front steps of the school and through the front door just as the bell rang for their third class. 

“Ready for this?” Louis asked, tightening his grip on his boyfriend’s hand.

“Absolutely, Tomlinson. Lead the way,” he replied, giving him a squeeze of his own. “Let’s do this.”

Stares, stares and more stares. At least nobody was saying shit--yet. Harry thought that was because everyone was in complete and utter disbelief. Even Becks and Trace looked shocked--but they shook it off quickly and made their way over to Louis’ locker. 

“Well then….,” Becks started, taking in the sight of them. “A little bit of hand holding for breakfast this morning?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Louis flipped back--trying not to show how scared he really was. 

“Nice,” Trace added. “I could totally get used to this. Don’t you think so Becky?” 

“Yeah….I mean, how does it feel though….to know everyone is staring at you?”

“To be completely honest, I don’t give two shits what anyone else thinks anymore,” Louis answered, finding his confidence. “Let them all look. I’m done hiding.”

“Cheers, then, babe,” Becks whispered, taking a step closer to Louis. “But just remember there are those of us who really aren’t ready quite yet.”

“No worries,” Harry smiled out. “We get that.”

“We…..awwwww...he said we. Isn’t that cute?” Trace smirked out. “You two better get to class before Shelley sees ya.” And with a wink they were gone. 

“Well, that went well….” Louis started. 

“Yeah...two down, about four hundred to go,” Harry mumbled. “And here comes one now. I hope you’re ready for this shit.”

Confused, Louis looked up just in time to see Zayn heading straight for them.


	21. .....any other way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this happened today. Hope you like it :) Just something quick :)

Harry gave Louis a quick glance and then kept his eyes on Zayn. He wasn’t sure what Zayn had on his mind, but he was going to be ready for anything. Like punching his fucking lights out. He could do that. He really wanted to do that--but Louis must have read his mind, because he grabbed his arm and put his mouth up close to his ear.

“Whatever he says, Harry….whatever he does, don’t hit him. Please,” Louis whispered quickly. 

“Why the fuck not?” Harry responded back quickly, not taking his eyes off Zayn. 

“I’ll explain later, OK? Just don’t. I know he deserves it, but just don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Zayn spat out, having closed the distance and heard the last of their hushed, hurried conversation. “Don’t you think you two should worry about yourselves? I mean, look at you.”

“Fuck you, Malik,” Harry spat back. “This doesn’t concern you--and quite frankly, it’s none of your business.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, dickface. Louis is my business. I’m his best friend….”

“Then why don’t you start acting like it,” Harry yelled back, not caring who heard. 

“I would, if you two would stop trapsing around like two queens from New York City….but I guess that’s what you’re used to, huh Styles? And now you’ve got Louis all twisted up. You’re fucking with his head, mate. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch it happen.”

“I really don’t think you have any say in the matter,” Harry stated flatly, taking a step towards Zayn. “Louis makes his own choices now. He does what he wants. Not what you want, or Shelley, or anyone else.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that, “ Zayn continued, getting madder by the second. “This is your fault, Styles. If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have to go through any of this shit. Do you even know what people are saying behind his back? Do you?”

“Zayn….” Louis started, but he didn’t get far. 

“No, Louis. Just shut up a minute and listen. I’ve tried to do this quietly. I’ve tried to make you see on your own, but all you can think about his him….ever since you took it up the……”

Zayn never got a chance to finish his sentence. Sometime during the conversation Stan had made his way over and had marked Zayn’s every move. And when he’d heard enough, he decided to act. The punch was swift and effective--and Zayn dropped like a stone. And Harry wasn’t all that shocked when a round of applause echoed through the hallway. But he was surprised at the reaction of Mr. Starks, the year eleven shop teacher. 

“About fucking time somebody did that,” Mr. Starks mumbled. “Lucas, you need to get out of here. They aren’t going to do anything to you unless there’s a teacher report….and the hell if I’m going to file one. Why don’t you take yourself out to the fieldhouse for a while, yeah?” 

“Sorry, Mr. Starks, but I can’t do that,” Stan countered. And Harry watched in disbelief as Stan picked Zayn up and helped him walk out the side door. He was going to the fieldhouse, but he took Zayn with him. And Harry was more than curious as he watched Stan mouth the word ‘sorry’ to Louis on the way out. And he was really confused when he saw how shiny his boyfriends eyes were. I mean, fuck. Zayn had it coming. Louis had to know that. Stan had nothing to be sorry about, and neither did he. What the fuck was going on? But Harry didn’t want anything to slide sideways--especially now that he and Louis were back on steady ground. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. Damn, he thought. This relationship shit was hard sometimes. Shaking his head, he grabbed Louis into a tight hug and whispered quiet reassurances in his ear, then took him out the same door Stan and Zayn left from not a minute earlier. Once they got inside the training room, Harry thought it was safe to ask just what the hell was going on. 

“So what was all that about?” Harry started, looking for answers. “Why did Stan punch his lights out and then pick him up...and...and….take care of him like that?”

Louis just sat on the training table and gave Harry an assessing look. A look that let Harry know he was trying to decide something--about him. 

“What the fuck, Lou?” Harry asked, confused by the expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Would you kindly tell me what’s going on?”

“Look, Harry. I don’t know if I can. I want to, but it’s not my explanation to give. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. If he wants to explain it to you, then that’s up to him, but I just….can’t….Harry.”

“And why the fuck not? More secrets, then? Well that’s just great. You know, Louis, I don’t think……” But Harry didn’t get to finish his sentence. 

“Just shut up for a minute, Styles. OK?” Zayn asked as he and Stan walked through the training room door and shut and locked it behind them. Zayn’s lip was cut and his face was starting to swell...and to be honest Harry couldn’t have cared less. But when Zayn looked over at Stan, who nodded at him, he carefully peeled his shirt up and off his body, revealing a smattering of bruises--and not the kind you get from football. And in an instant, Harry understood. Once Zayn saw realization cross Harry’s face, he quickly put his shirt back on and lowered his head. But Harry was there before his chin hit his chest. Carefully, Harry wrapped his arms around the boy he barely knew--and after a few seconds, Zayn let himself be held. And eventually, he spoke.  
“Nobody knows. Not even my mum,” Zayn started carefully. “Just the people in this room.” 

“So that’s why….” Harry started, but Zayn interrupted him immediately.

“Do you ever just shut up, Styles? For like two minutes? And don’t go thinking you know me now, or something like that, just because you know about….this. Because you don’t.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” Harry answered softly. “But I want to. I want to know you. All you’ve got to do is let me.”

Harry looked over Zayn’s shoulder and noticed that Stan had made his way over to Louis and they were standing shoulder to shoulder, just watching the two of them. But the look on his boyfriend’s face let him know that what he had said was right. And Harry only flinched a little bit when Stan wrapped his arm around Louis’ shoulder. And he groaned inwardly at himself at how much he really didn’t want anyone else touching Louis--ever. 

“I’m going to take him home now,” Stan announced, removing his arm and walking over to Zayn. 

“Wait,” Louis interrupted. “Before you take him, I need to clear the air about something. And you might not like it, but you should know.”

“Lou, can’t this wait?” Stan asked quietly. 

“No. It can’t. It’ll only take a couple of minutes, and Zayn needs to hear it, too.” 

Stan and Zayn nodded at him to continue, so he did. 

“Stan, I told Harry….about….us. What happened with us.”

“Yeah...I kinda thought you might...uh….have to. After dickhead over here told Harry what he thought he saw,” Stan responded, motioning over to said dickhead. “But we got that straightened out, didn’t we, Z?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, Harry. I really did think that…..well….obviously,” Zayn mumbled through a swollen lip. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d really like to go home and ice my face.” And with that, he turned and left, leaving Stan mumbling under his breath and jogging to catch up. 

“I’ll be back before the team gets here for practice. Cover for me, will ya Harry?” Stan called on the way out the door. 

“Sure,” Harry half yelled back. “I got it.” 

And finally, they were alone. And emotional. And that was a very, very dangerous combination. Especially in an empty field house behind a locked door, Harry thought, as he walked over, shut it, and turned the lock. 

“Harry?” Louis questioned, but his eyes were already filling with black. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking? Who said I was thinking anything?” Harry smirked as he stalked Louis--slowly walking around the training table whilst running his fingers along the soft leather. 

“Thought you said I wasn’t going to get off that easy...that you needed...uh….what was it again? Oh yeah….processing time?” Louis teased back--his arousal just as clear as Harry’s own. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt something as important as that.”

“Hmmmm….suppose you’re right,” Harry bluffed, walking pointlessly back towards the door he had no intention of unlocking, much less opening. 

“Haz….” Louis started, but his words got caught in his throat as he watched Harry peel his shirt up and off his body. And Louis caught himself, not for the first time, wondering how he was ever going to survive this boy. He was pretty sure Harry Styles was going to be the death of him. 

“Wanna undress for me, love?” Harry requested, having leaned himself back on the locked door. 

“What? Here?” Louis played along. But he wasn’t fooling Harry--not one bit. He was completely into it. 

“Strip.” Harry near demanded as he crossed his arms over his naked chest. 

“And what are you going to do then, just stand there and watch?” Louis countered--feigning disbelief but getting harder by the second. He’d do anything for Harry--he knew that now. 

“Yes,” Harry answered coolly. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Harry sharpened his glare and stood up straighter--but didn’t move towards his boyfriend. 

Louis looked at him--but all the pretending was gone. It was replaced with want. The kind of want that he couldn’t really explain, yet, but knew was there. The kind of want that pushed him forward and added that extra bit of willingness to his usually reserved personality. The kind of want that would make him do anything Harry requested. So without further hesitation, Louis hopped off the training table, turned around, and bent over to untie his trainers. 

“Brave of you,” Harry called out. “Starting before I gave you specific instructions.”

Louis froze for a couple of seconds, smirked inwardly to himself, and stood--making sure to hold eye contact with his younger boyfriend. But instead of Harry giving him instructions, Louis watched as Harry made his way over and kissed him gently on the mouth. 

“This ok Lou? Are you into it?” Harry asked quietly--but carefully not touching Louis. 

“God yes. More than into it. It’s good,” Louis answered back breathlessly, tippy-toeing up to try and catch Harry’s lips again, but Harry was having none of it--and he quickly took a few steps back. 

“Pants and shorts, first.” Harry request/demanded through serious eyes. Fuck this was hot. 

Louis looked confused for a second, then began to kick off his shoes--thinking it would be easier to get the requested items off if he discarded them first. 

“No. Shoes stay on. For now,” Harry chided. “And I’d make sure you listen to directions from now on, Louis.”

Louis didn’t know exactly what his boyfriend meant by that, but he was eager to find out. Louis turned around and leaned his backside against the training table and carefully worked his pants and shorts down his body and over his shoes, discarding them to the side. It wasn’t easy--and it took some time. Patience, Louis thought to himself. Patience. 

“Shirt, please.” Harry added finally. And Louis complied--taking his time with it. And he knew Harry was just as gone as he was when he heard Harry’s breath hitch as he scraped down and over his own nipples after throwing his shirt into his growing pile of clothes. 

“Beautiful. You’re so gorgeous, Lou. Now take a step forward, turn around, and bend over and untie your shoes.” 

Slowly, Louis turned around--giving Harry what he wanted. And with ever growing confidence, he widened his stance more than was really necessary and began to fold his body in half. And he couldn’t contain the smile and soft laugh when he heard his boyfriend whimper. He loved that he could have this effect on Harry. It made him feel invincible. Carefully, Louis untied his right shoe, rose all the way up, shifted his hips, and folded his body over to the left and untied his other shoe. But instead of standing up this time, he just held the position--and waited. When Harry didn’t say anything for a bit, Louis risked a glance between his legs, and saw that Harry was positively frozen in place--seemingly mesmorized--and that did things for Louis. Wonderful things. Things he was only beginning to understand. Carefully, he rose back up, and for good measure, clasped his hands behind his back. He thought Harry might like that--and he wasn’t wrong. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry finally managed to get out as he walked over to Louis and gently pushed on his shoulders until his upper body was laying across the training table, leaving his perfect ass just the right amount of in the air. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” Louis asked, looking back and up at his boyfriend curiously, secretly hoping the answer was going to be yes. 

“Depends. How are you feeling? Are you still sore, love?” Harry softened, returning to run his hand down Louis’ smooth, flexed back. “Thought maybe I would make you come on my fingers, if you felt up for it.” 

“Yes...I’m good….I think. Please, Haz...just….” Louis began, the begging tone of his own voice surprising him a bit. But fuck it. 

“Shhhh, love. I’ve got you. Scoot up a bit, babe. And put your knee up on the table, too. Yeah….just like that. Fuck, babe. You look so amazing like this. So ready for me. Stay just like that….” But Harry knew his boyfriend wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was he. Taking a deep breath, Harry made his way over to the counter and found the special oil his mother had started leaving for him about the time he turned thirteen. They never discussed it, but he knew it was from her, and he knew what it was for. He didn’t use it for anything else--and it was perfect for this. And when he made his way back over to Louis, he found himself lost in the moment. 

“Tell me if it’s too much...or too soon,” Harry requested, laying gentle kisses across Louis’ shoulders as he let the oil drip from his palm down his fingers. “Arch up for me babe.” 

And as Louis did, Harry smoothly slid one finger deep--causing a moan from the older boy beneath him. Harry worked quickly--probably more quickly than he should have--but by the way Louis was grinding into the soft leather and pushing back on his finger, Harry wasn’t worried. And he didn’t give Louis any warning before adding a second and spreading his fingers, criss-crossing them firmly and steadily, easily finding Louis’ spot. 

“Fuck, Harry. Right there...please. Please.” Louis begged out breathlessly as he pushed back on his boyfriend’s fingers. 

“Arch for me a little more, babe,” Harry requested, having already coated a third finger. “Can I add another, love?”

“Yes. Please Harry. Just do it,” Louis whispered, turning his head up to see Harry. “Want it. Want you.” 

“Tell me….you’ve got to tell me if it’s too much, Lou. OK?”

“Yes, yes, OK...just get on with it,” Louis whined out--clearly impatient. Harry loved that about him--how he couldn’t hide his need. It was breathtaking, really. Slowing his pace a bit, Harry twisted his wrist and gave Lou what he wanted--and the way Louis clenched around him and whimpered as he pushed had Harry leaking--and ready. After giving Louis time to adjust, Harry began working his fingers again--more carefully this time--even if his boyfriend liked some discomfort, he would never put him in pain--so he took an extra few minutes just to make sure.

“Ready for me, love?” Harry asked, leaning over to suck dark purple marks up his back. Louis was his. “You want me?”

“Like this?” Louis asked, already dazed with want and looking totally fucked out just from Harry’s fingers and mouth. 

“Yeah..It’s nice. You’ll see. Just relax and let me take care of you. Plus I can see,” Harry added as an afterthought. “I really want to see, Lou.” 

Harry was already giving himself a good coat as Louis nodded his agreement and relaxed into the table. After he was finished slicking himself up, he pushed Louis’ knee further up on the table and reached under him to pull him backwards a bit, taking some of the arch out of his back. 

“Just like that, Lou,” Harry reassured as he lined himself up and began a steady push forward--listening to the steady litany of oh my god’s that fell from his boyfriend’s mouth until his thighs hit the table. He didn’t bottom out, but he didn’t need to. And he didn’t wait to start a smooth stroke, either. He was too lost in Louis--the sounds he was making--the words he was uttering--the feel of him, actually--to wait. And as Louis clenched around him Harry angled just right shoved into Louis spot--hard. 

“Fuck….there. Please. Again, Haz….again...right there…..,” Louis whimpered out--instinctively arching a bit so that Harry would hit his spot in just the right way. 

“Yeah? There?” Harry teased, holding the angle. Louis didn’t answer--couldn’t answer--as Harry picked up the pace and worked into him just right. Harry watched as Louis gripped the side of the training table he was laid across….watched as he began to use his grip as leverage so that he could push back and meet him thrust for thrust….and watched in utter amazement as Louis clenched around him so, so tight...and shook through the force of his orgasm. Only Harry didn’t stop this time. He eased a bit and fucked him through it--before it became too much for him--and he pulled out and splashed across Louis’ back as he gripped marks into his hips in an attempt to ground himself, keep himself from floating away. 

And as the two lay, filthy and complete, catching their breath, Harry half on top of Louis, they both knew they were cemented together. There was no going back. There was nothing that could ever come between. They were together now--each other’s. And neither wanted it any other way.


	22. It really is a distraction.

“You do know that its totally going to be your fault when I can’t practice for shit today, right?” Louis half giggled as he watched Harry clean himself up. 

“Oh no you don’t….you’re not putting that on me, mate,” Harry replied lightly. “That was all on you.”

Louis just rolled his eyes at his ridiculous boyfriend and followed suit. When both boys were dressed, Harry rolled out a stretch mat and motioned for Louis to come and lay with him on the floor. Louis grabbed some rolled towels first and arranged them, pillow like, and obliged. 

“You know,” Harry thought out loud, “I’m starting to have serious concerns about your safety.”

“Is that so?” Louis asked, curling around his bigger boyfriend, holding him a bit too tight. “And why’s that?” 

“Because,” Harry started, turning to face Louis before continuing, “You bring out something in me. Every time I’m around you I want to….well, obviously.”

Louis just smirked. “Me, too. Like all the time. But I suppose that’s normal, right?”

Harry chucked lightly in Louis arms and finally relaxed. “Guess so. Plus, I like it when you do what I say.”

“Me, too…” Louis trailed off in thought. “But...I think you like telling me what to do, so.”

“Yeah...I guess I do. I dunno, really. It’s new, ya know?”

“I know,” Louis responded, glassy eyed and sleepy. “Maybe we could...you know….experiment with it, like.”

Harry’s ears perked up at that. Well. “How do you mean?” 

“Well, you know that I...uh…..like it when it’s….you know…” Louis started, blush spreading across his face.

“When it hurts a bit?” Harry supplied, shifting to get a good look at Louis’ face. 

Louis just nodded, amazed at the way his jeans felt that little bit tighter. Amazing. 

“My god, Lou,” Harry whispered--clearly noticing the way Louis’ body was reacting to their sleepy conversation. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that, too. And I have a few ideas….” Louis started, lifting his hand like he was about to count off his ideas on his slender fingers. His beautiful fingers--the ones with the short, bitten nails and clean cuticles. 

“Christ, Lou,” Harry mumbled, reaching out to take his hand. He seriously didn’t think he could handle hearing his boyfriend articulate his wants and desires. Not with practice in an hour, anyhow. 

Louis just blushed again and curled himself impossibly closer and allowed himself to drift off. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until Harry was gently shaking him awake, whispering, “Come on, Lou. You’ve got to see this.” 

Without giving it too much thought, Louis arose and followed Harry to the door of the locker room and peered inside.

“Ok lads, everyone sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!” Stan called out--he was clearly in charge of the rowdy bunch that had gathered, in various states of dress and undress as they readied themselves for practice. 

“Oi,” David called out, “Oi, everybody! Stan has something to say so shut it!”

Finally, the room began to quiet down and the boys found places to sit or lean.

“So,” Stan started, pacing around the small room. “As you know, our team captain is going through some shit right now, and it’s up to us to help him through it…”

“Going through some shit is right,” Chris called out. “Did you see him and Harry this morning? Fucking holding hands, they were. Here, in Doncaster, mate. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah...and everyone knows how much time they’ve been spending together,” Danny continued. “People say they’re….you know….that Louis’ on that, mate. Dunno what to call it.”

“Look,” Stan started again. “I don’t know what they get up to, lads. And it’s none of our business, really. But they are part of this team. Louis is our Captain and Harry---he’s new here--I get that, but he’s….uh….with Louis now, so we’re going to support him just like we are going to support Tommo.”

“The fuck, Stan?” Eddison called out. “You expect us to be ok with it? To support it? Shelley said…”

“I don’t give two shits what Shelley said, and neither should you, Ed,” Stan interrupted. 

“Well you should….how can we expect Tomlinson to lead this team now?”

“Now? Give me a fucking break. What do you mean, now? He’s the same person, Eddison. He’s the same guy we all grew up with. That hasn’t changed. So you all need to get your head around this….and soon. We’ve got playoffs coming up, and we need Louis at his best.”

“Yeah, sure, mate. Maybe we can ask Harry what his best is then?” Eddison mocked. 

“What’s your fucking problem,” Stan spat back--silencing the room. 

“For Christ Sake, Stan. Do they have to hold hands at school? In public? It’s...it’s...well, it ain’t right. Can’t they at least keep it private?”

“Private. OK. Sure. Let me ask you something, then. Do you remember two years ago?”

“That’s got nothing to do with this,” Eddison started. But Stan was having none of it.

“No? Oh...well maybe you should remind yourself of a few things, then. When your dad got sick, who sat with you at the hospital? Who brought you crisps and prayed with you? Who held you when you got so scared that you cried and cried?”

“Fuck, Stan. That’s not fair, and you know it!”

“Who, Ed? Who stayed up with you all hours of the night and who fucking did half your homework when he should have been doing his own? Fucking answer me.”

“Louis,” Eddison stammered quietly. “Lou did.”

“That’s right. And you best remember that,” Stan warned. 

“But Stan,” Jason interrupted, “how is this going to affect his play? I mean...he’s gay, man….how’s he going to play now?”

“What the fuck, Jason? Are you serious? How’s he gonna play? He’s gonna play the same as he always has. He’s the best out of all of us! Hell, he’s the best out of everyone we play! He’s got a shot at playing real football, and you know it. Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“But he’s….”

“Gay?” Stan shouted--and the room positively stilled. “Yes. My best friend in the whole world is gay. And he always has been. Always. He was even gay when you came whining to him last fall, remember Jas?”

“What the fuck, Stan? That’s private.” 

“Really Jas? Private? And how do you suppose it stayed that way, huh? I’ll tell you how. It stayed quiet because Louis refused to tell anyone. Even coach. Even the headmaster...or didn’t you know that? Probably not. And you want to know why? I’ll tell you why….because he was protecting your dumb ass, that’s why. He had your back, mate. And now you’re talking and acting like you barely know him. And that’s bullshit.”

“But Christ, Stan. Does he have to be affectionate….you know...in public?” Chris commented weakly. 

“Yes,” Stan countered, jumping up on a bench to make his point. “He absolutely does.”

“But why?” Chris pestered. “I mean, they’re not going to like hold hands on the bus or at games, are they? I mean seriously.”

“What the fuck is your problem, Chris? Are you jealous? Or just sexually frustrated?” Stan continued. “I mean, it’s been a while since you and Hilly broke up, right?”

“Fuck off,” Chris spat. 

“Fuck off? Really?. Let me ask you something then. Who baby sat your ass when Hilly dumped you...huh? Who took you out and kept you on this team even though you couldn’t practice for shit cause your heart was broken? Who stood up for you when we all gave you shit because you were still acting like a little bitch a month after it was all over? Who did that, Chris?”

Chris had nothing to say. He just shifted onto the floor and and leaned back on the bench, and waited. 

“Fuck. I mean, don’t you guys get it? Louis has been here for every single one of you. He’s been here for you through breakups, divorces, sick parents….everything. He’s cleaned you up when you puked all over yourselves. He’s picked you up after bad games. Let you cry on his shoulder about every miserable thing in your life. But let me ask you this….how many of you did he talk to about what he goes through?”

Stan took a minute to look at each and every player in the dressing room--making sure they looked him in the eye before moving on. To be honest, he didn’t really know what to expect from the lot, but he was feeling better about how things were going by the second. Hell, some of the boys looked a bit watery--and that was exactly what he wanted. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, lads. We’re going to support Louis the way he supported us--without judgment. He never judged any of us. And now he’s got Shelley on his ass...and….”

“I thought Harry was on that, mate….” Sam cut in with a huge smile. And a bit of laughter echoed through the small concrete room, lessening the tension a bit. And to be honest, Stan was happy it did.

“Well you’d have to ask them about that,” Stan smiled out, shrugging. “The point is, we’re going to continue to love and respect Louis the same way we always have. He hasn’t changed a bit--you all need to understand that. He’s just finally met someone that means more to him than what people think. Personally, I hope that happens to me one day.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Eddison added quickly. “That’s got to be a pretty powerful thing, if you think on it. I mean, how much do you have to love someone to put yourself in a position like this?”

“I can answer that,” Louis replied, as he pulled Harry into the locker room with him--hands gripped tightly together. “A whole fucking lot.”

“You two aren’t going to like kiss or anything,” Chris chided from his place on the floor--still not completely on board with everything. 

“I dunno mate,” Louis commented, “would that be so terrible a thing?”

“Suppose not,” Chris stammered. “But it’ll take some getting used to. Maybe you could like take it easy on some of us for a while, ok? Give us a chance to….like Stan said….get our heads around it, ya know?”

“I can do that,” Louis agreed, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “We can do that.” 

Harry nodded his assent and looked up for the first time. To his amazement nobody wanted to rip his head off and bury his body on the pitch. At least he didn’t think so. 

“What the hell’s going on in here?” Coach Simon’s voice roared through the room. “Why isn’t anyone on the pitch? You’re over fifteen minutes late!” 

“Team meeting,” Louis answered. “It was important.”

Coach Simon took in the sight before him and didn’t even grimace. “Well, then. Got everything squared away?”

“I think so,” Stan helped out. “Right lads?”

Everyone in the room nodded and mumbled their sure’s and yes’s. 

“Great. Then could we get on with the business of practice? We’ve got a lot of work to do before next week to get ready for the playoffs. So get your asses dressed and on the pitch in ten.”

“Eight minutes, team. Hurry the fuck up,” Stan called out as Coach Simon made his way out of the room. “Eight minutes.”

“So I’ve got to get ready now,” Louis whispered next to Harry. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah...I mean….wow. Stan? He’s really…..”

“I know,” Louis smiled. “Now get your ass out of here so I can concentrate.”

“Didn’t know my bum was a distraction, Harry playfully whispered back as he turned to leave.

“Hazza,” Louis hushed out, pulling Harry back into him a bit, and curling so that his lips were right up against his boyfriend’s ear. “Your bum is always a distraction. Now kindly get the fuck out of here before I bend you over one of these benches and figure out just what to do with it.”

And if Harry had to give himself a quick adjustment as he made his way back to the training room--so be it. 

*********************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter in a day or so :)


	23. It's where you belong.

The next month was both busy and frustrating for both Harry and Louis. Tournament play started, and ended, with a near-championship. But coach Paul said that Louis’ performance was most likely good enough for him to get some calls. Harry tried his best not to think about that too much. School settled down after a week or two--and people actually got used to seeing the two of them together, though they rarely held hands and almost never kissed in public. Shelley still gave them disapproving looks whenever she got within leering distance, but she mostly kept her comments to herself. Harry knew that had something to do with Becks, but she was as tight lipped about that as she was everything else in her life, so Harry just went with it. Anything that kept that little monster out of his business and away from Louis was alright by him, no matter what it was. And Louis seemed to feel the same. Basically, life started to slow down and even out, for once. And Harry was finally content. He had an amazing GPA, an amazing boyfriend, and amazing friends. He and Zayn had worked through their issues and Harry was happy to call him a friend--though he was still a bit cautious with him when it came to Louis. It’s not that he didn’t trust him, exactly. It was just that he sometimes caught Zayn looking at his boyfriend a little too long, seemingly lost in thought--and Harry didn’t like it. At all. Even though, Harry’d let Zayn sleep over at his a few night when his dad was being a particularly drunk asshole, and Zayn had even talked to Harry’s dad about things--which did very little in the way of actually helping the situation. Zayn just shrugged it off and said that he was out of there in a few months anyway, so it didn’t really matter anymore. He had a few offers coming his way, to be sure. He’d even gone to a few try outs--something he kept very quiet--and Harry was quite sure he performed very well at them--if what Louis said was true. Louis said that Zayn was actually the best out of all of them--better than anyone he’d seen. So he wasn’t worried that he’d find a place away from his dad, somewhere. And Harry thought his last name and football pedigree wouldn’t discourage anyone from taking a chance on him, either. 

Not surprisingly, Stan became a constant fixture in his life as well. And other than Louis and Mark, he was his truest friend. He even invited him over for Tacos after Harry’d been invited over to meet his stepmonster and absentee dad. It was fun, and his parents loved him--but not quite as much as his sister did. Mark came to visit in November, claiming he needed a serious break before finals--but Harry knew the truth. He wanted to meet Louis and get a first-hand look at their relationship. He approved. And that single thing--even though it really wouldn’t have made a difference in how Harry lived his life--did comfort him a great deal. He knew Mark would never hold back or lie to him--and when Mark hugged him and told him how wonderfully happy he was that he had someone like Louis in his life, well. And Harry was happy when, a few days later, Mark Skyped him and introduced him to a nice man he had been seeing for a while. 

Winter formal came and went, too. Harry and Louis were there together, obviously. But they didn’t slow dance--only danced in groups--and had the perfect time. Louis usually won all the “King of the Universe” awards at school--but this year he was passed up for Winter Formal King--and nobody was really that surprised, least of all Louis. He didn’t want to stand up there with Shelley, anyway, and he was happy to let Liam take the honors--though Liam didn’t feel much better about standing up there with her any more than Louis would have. He just shrugged, took the photo, then took off back to his date. 

On the walk home from the formal, Louis surprised Harry by linking their hands together. Harry could tell there was something on his mind, but he didn’t push. He just enjoyed the feel of his boyfriend’s hand in his and the almost cold air that helped to clear his head after three hours of loud music, too-sweet punch and stale cake. 

“You know,” Louis started, “this reminds me of the night we walked to yours after I told my mom I was gay.” 

Harry smiled at the memory. “Does it now?” Harry teased. He loved it when Louis thought of that night. 

“Mhm,” Louis hummed, gripping Harry’s hand a little tighter. “And what happened after.”

Harry’s smile widened as he stopped walking and pulled Louis to him. 

“And I was thinking,” Louis continued, “ that maybe it’s your turn, love.”

And Harry froze. This is what he’d been waiting for. Praying for, even. This is what’s been clouding his judgment and making it near impossible to concentrate for the past few weeks. Maybe longer. But he’d let Louis take the lead with it. He didn’t want to push him, and to be honest, he absolutely loved being inside of his boyfriend, so he didn’t feel the need to rush him. But Harry could feel the adrenaline push through his body at the thought of it. 

“Are you sure, Lou?” Harry questioned quietly--but there was no conviction in it. And Louis read him like a paperback. 

“Well, I guess we could wait….”

Harry didn’t let him finish. Instead, he damn near attacked him, right there on the street. He didn’t care who saw. He didn’t care what anyone would think. He had to let Louis know what he was feeling and thinking in that exact instance--and nothing could make him wait. After a bit, Louis pulled back gently and retook his hand and started walking again. 

“You know, I could walk really really slow. And then pretend I’ve forgotten my keys once we get up to the door. I could even make you sit and eat and cut up some cheese as slow as humanly possible, just to make you suffer,” Louis teased. “Remember?”

Harry just laughed. “I remember. I’ll never forget that night. I just wanted to take care of you. Make sure everything was perfect.”

“I think you just wanted to torture me,” Louis laughed back, knocking his hip into Harry. 

“Maybe,” Harry confessed. “You made me wait for like six weeks or summat. You deserved it.”

“What?” Louis feigned innocence. “I would never deny you. How very dare you make such an allegation?”

“Please,” Harry snickered. “You knew what you were doing. Don’t even try and deny it.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Louis teased back. “Besides, I wanted to make sure I was in love with you, first. And that you were in love with me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely in love with you,” Harry quipped. “You and your cock.”

“You should be,” Louis played back. “It is rather impressive.”

“Gosh but don’t I know it,” Harry sang back. He loved it when they bantered like this. “Do you think it will even fit?”

Louis blushed at that, and Harry hauled him back in for a soothing kiss that his boyfriend immediately opened up for. He didn’t want Louis to worry about anything. 

“It will, right?” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear once the kiss ended. “Fit, I mean?”

“Dunno, really,” Harry played back, happy that his earlier comment didn’t spoil the mood. “Might take you a while to prep me, though. Just to make sure.” 

At that, Louis ground up into Harry, letting his boyfriend know he was up for the task. “I’ll make sure. Promise, love,” Louis let out, a little softer than before. “Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you feel as amazing as I always do.” 

The duo walked the rest of the way in relative silence, and Harry was glad for it. His mind was filled with Louis and his body was shaking from the inside out with lust and impatience. He wondered if Louis had felt the same way when he walked to his house a few weeks ago with the same thing on his mind. Harry had to admit to himself that he wasn’t really prepared for what he was feeling. He was overwhelmed, already. Overwhelmed by his boyfriend’s confidence. Overwhelmed by the massive amount of love and lust coursing through him. And overwhelmed by the sense of urgency he couldn’t shake. He actually thought he’d drop down right here on the sidewalk if he thought Louis would allow it, and just get to it. 

Once they were inside, Harry knew he couldn’t wait any longer. But Louis seemed to have other plans. Not surprisingly, Louis made his way into the small kitchen, leaving Harry no other option but to follow. 

“Sit down,” Louis requested. “I’ve made us a plate. You know. Fruit and cheese and whatnot.”

“No juice?” Harry quipped. “I think I’m going to need juice.”

Louis just smirked and took pre-made plates and pre-poured glasses of juice out of the fridge and set them on the pre-prepared table, silverware and all.

“Planning for something, Lou?” Harry asked, taking it all in. “Quite presumptuous don’t you think? What if I would have said no?”

Louis just laughed and sat down next to Harry and started eating. “I was feeling pretty confident we were on the same page. You know. Seeing as how you’ve been rubbing your arse into my crotch for weeks. Figured I might as well give you what you want.”

“I have not!” Harry played back, taking a large drink of his juice. “When have I ever rubbed my arse against you?”

“Uhm….like all the time, maybe?” Louis smiled back. “But it’s ok….I like it.” 

“Well, then,” Harry shrugged, “what are you complaining about?”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Louis smiled out. “Just had to make sure you were in love with me first.”

“You know something Louis?” Harry asked, having cleaned his plate and scooted back a bit. 

“What’s that love?”

“I love you. I really fucking love you. Like an amazing amount of love. I love you more than anyone could love another human being. Now please, hurry the fuck up and finish your food. Please.”

“Careful, Harry,” Louis fake-warned. “If you continue to speak to me with that tone, we might not make it upstairs. I might just bend you over this kitchen table and get on with it right here.”

“Hmmmm….tempting,” Harry worded out. His cock was definitely paying attention, now. “But I think I’d rather go up to your room, if it’s all the same. I love it in there, you know. It’s where we fell in love. All those weeks of music and homework and talking about our families. That was the place.”

Louis positively beamed at that. And to be honest, he was just as impatient as Harry. Smiling, he got up, helped Harry out of the chair and curled himself around his back. 

“Lead the way,” he whispered into Harry’s ear--and so he did--taking extra care to grind back into Louis the entire short distance. And by the time they were inside Louis’ small room, he was so, so hard. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis moaned out, pulling Harry back into him and pushing forward. 

“Like that?” Harry teased, arching just that little bit more so that Louis could grind almost between his high cheeks. 

“God, yes,” Louis stammered out, as he continued the motion. “But I’m pretty sure I’d like it even more if we had less clothes on.” 

Harry turned around and pulled Louis in close. “You looked so handsome tonight, love. You should wear a tux everywhere you go.”

“So should you. Tailored pants suit you,” Louis mumbled as he peppered gentle kisses along Harry’s neck and down towards his collar bone. Louis had learned a lot about what Harry liked over the past month. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry moaned out.

“Like that?” Louis quipped back, working to the other side and giving it the same treatment. 

“Hmmmm…” Harry sighed out, relaxing at the warm feel of Louis’ mouth. “Yes.” 

Louis slowly slid Harry’s jacket off and started working the buttons on his crisp white shirt. He took his time, pausing to place wet, open-mouthed kisses each time a new area of skin was revealed. And by the time he reached the last button, he was on his knees before his boyfriend. Continuing his achingly slow, teasing place, he released the button and slid the zip down of the tailored pants he loved so much, and tugged them down to the floor, and then did the same with Harry’s pants.

“Step,” Louis requested, and Harry did so--taking his shirt the rest of the way off in the process. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Louis mumbled as he watched Harry finish with his shirt. “Now come here...I want to taste you.”

Harry quickly obliged and he thought he might die as Louis wrapped his fist around his cock and rubbed the leaking head across his tongue. Louis had developed his own technique, and Harry was definitely obsessed with it. It was both firm and slow--and it could take Harry apart. After using his tongue, Louis would usually wrap both hands around him and grip his arse to pull him deeper, but today he seemed to have other ideas. Just when he’d usually let go, he tightened his stroke and sucked stronger and faster. And just when Harry was about to warn Louis to stop, he lost his mind when he felt, for the first time, Louis’ split-slick finger push against his opening--and he fucking lost it. His orgasm hit him so hard and so unexpectedly that, at first, he didn’t notice that Louis hadn’t pulled off. And when he finally regained his mental stability, and collapsed into Louis’ arms, it hit him. 

“Don’t look so alarmed, love,” Louis smirked at him, when Harry gave him a look of concern. 

“Oh my god, Lou...you….did you?” Harry stammered, still breathless and light-headed.

“Hmmmm….yeah,” Louis supplied as he rubbed his thumb across his boyfriend’s cheek. “I guess I did.”

“You are so fucking amazing, Lou. That was amazing. I can’t even explain how much,” Harry mumbled before joining their mouths together. “And you taste so fucking good…”

“I should,” Louis replied between sloppy kisses, “I taste like you.”

“Still so cheeky,” Harry mused thoughtfully, taking in the sight of his disheveled, mostly dressed boyfriend. “I think it’s time we get you out of this tux, love.”

“Think so?” Louis quizzed--his blue eyes twinkling beneath his lashes. 

“Definitely,” Harry nodded. “And Lou?”

“Yeah Haz?” Louis replied as his lifted himself off the floor and then helped Harry do the same. 

“I was thinking….you know what would be nice?”

“Hmmm?” Louis hummed, as Harry went to work on his trousers, and then his pants. 

“A shower….maybe. How does that sound? Do you think you would like that?” Harry questioned cautiously, holding eye contact. They hadn’t showered together since Harry’d cleaned him out after Louis’ first time, and Harry thought it would be a nice way to ease his boyfriend into...well….what came next. 

“Maybe after?” Louis responded softly with a quizzical look on his face. “Would that be alright?”

“Yeah...I just thought….”

“You think too much, Haz,” Louis whispered as he stepped out of his pants and turned his boyfriend around and snuggled up behind him, letting him know just how ready he was. “I know what you’re thinking, love. But I’m good. I’m beyond good--so stop worrying and let me….let me take care of you.”

Harry positively whimpered. Just the way Louis said what he said had him thickening up against his thigh. 

“No more worrying,” Louis whispered in his ear as he guided him over to his bed. “And on your tummy, if you please.” 

Harry shot a quick glance back over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the man behind him. Louis just raised his right back and reached around him, rearranged a pillow, and gently pushed on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Hips up for me, Haz,” Louis mumbled right behind his earlobe as he followed him down--sucking a deep mark just above his shoulder blade as they went. 

Louis lifted up and waited as Harry got himself settled properly, and went back to work on his neck--leaving purple marks in his wake--as he slowly moved his way down. And by the time Louis left a particularly dark mark right where his back gave way to his arse, Harry was positively squirming and grinding beneath him. And fuck if that didn’t get Louis off. So much that he sat back on his heels and pressed his thumbs deep into his two latest marks just so he could watch Harry’s body and drink in the too-quiet whimpers he was making. 

“Fuck, Haz,” Louis mumbled breathlessly, “So beautiful. You should see your back….all marked up….so pretty.”

Harry just ground harder into the pillow beneath him and then arched his back up into Louis’ pushing thumbs. And when Harry arched up again, Louis reached around his thighs and pulled his body up a bit so that his arse was just a little bit higher when he lowered him gently back down on the pillow. 

“Haz?” Louis asked as he moved his hands back around and up the back of his boyfriend’s thighs--stopping just before his thumbs could pull him apart. 

“Kiss me?” Harry requested softly, turning his head as best he could so that he could look up at Louis. Carefully, Louis leaned his body up and over, to oblige the request. And as he moved up, he felt the head of his cock slide between the tops of Harry’s cheeks--and he almost lost it. Harry must have sensed it--because he smirked into the kiss, twisting his body a bit so that he could get at Louis better. And for a few minutes it was just lips and tongues and teeth--and it was perfect. Finally, Harry pulled back, nodded, and twisted his body back fully underneath Louis and began to work his hips so that his arse would grind into his boyfriend. After getting lost in the sensation of it, Louis was only pulled back from the bliss when Harry stopped moving and spread his legs wider and arched up. Louis moved back down his body and almost lost it again. With the way that he was positioned, Louis could see him. Really see him--for the first time--and he was mesmerized. So mesmerized, in fact, that he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breath, really. 

“Lou?” Harry mumbled into his pillow, eyes closed--and just as lost in sensation as Louis. 

“Hmmmm,” Louis finally answered--Harry’s voice having pulled him out of his haze. When he looked up and saw how relaxed and ready Harry was, he nodded--more to himself--and finally, finally, let his thumbs drift between Harry’s cheeks and gently pull him apart. He did this a few more times, marveling at how absolutely perfect Harry looked, spread open like that, and Louis couldn’t stop himself. With a not so gentle pull, Louis exposed his boyfriend’s beautiful arse and licked across him like his life depended on it--and maybe it did. He’s pretty sure he felt Harry tense and arch under him--and he’s mostly sure he heard him moan--but he couldn’t be sure. His tongue and brain were on some sort of autopilot. A sex enduced autopilot that had Louis pulling and licking and exploring. He couldn’t have predicted it. He never even knew he wanted it. But it was happening, and it was brilliant. After a while, he became more aware of what he was doing and pointed his tongue--pushing into Harry--out of sheer need. He needed to taste him, so he did. He felt Harry grab the back of his head and twist his fingers through his hair and push, so he twisted his tongue in deeper--lost in the moans Harry was making and the musky smell of him. It was intoxicating. After a while, Harry pulled his head back, and twisted his body once again so that they could see each other. 

Louis looked amazed, if a little stunned, while Harry looked on him with astounded disbelief. Quickly, Harry pulled the pillow aside and tossed it somewhere on the floor, crawled up and wrapped his body around Louis and held him tight. 

“Christ, Lou,” Louis mumbled into his ear, running his fingers through the back of his baby fine hair. “That was….was….I can’t even explain what that was.”

“Me either,” Louis whispered out, still a bit breathless. “Was it….good...Haz?” 

Harry smiled against Louis’ neck and nodded--and in that instant, Louis couldn’t wait any more. “Lay back now, love,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear. “Are you….can I?”

“Yeah….don’t want to wait anymore…..can’t,” Harry nodded out, leaning back to reach over to the small nightstand to grab the slick he’d noticed was there earlier. Louis took it from him, laid it next to him, and gently pushed on Harry’s chest. Smiling, Harry stretched himself out, then lifted his hips and brought his knees up and then wide, opening himself up once again for Louis. 

“Christ, Haz,” Louis mumbled, taking in the sight of him again. “I’m never going to get used to seeing you spread open like this. Never.” 

“Fingers Lou. Please,” Harry practically begged. “Please.”

The whining tone of Harry’s voice went straight to his cock, and it took every ounce of brain power within him to focus. Louis had been daydreaming about this for weeks. He had a plan. He knew he could do this--but he wanted it to be perfect. Harry deserved everything in his life to be perfect, and Louis all at once felt the pressure of it weigh on him. Harry must have read his mind, because he reached up and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t worry about everything being perfect, Louis. Whatever you do will be amazing, love. So don’t worry,” Harry cooed, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand for reassurance. “Promise.”

“I love you so much,” Louis mumbled as he leaned over Harry’s body and kissed him. 

“And I love you,” Harry replied. “Do you want me to talk you through it? Or can you….”

“I can,” Louis interrupted. “Just tell me if something doesn’t feel good.” 

“I will,” Harry hummed out, relaxing back yet again. “Promise.”

Reassured, Louis thought back to how Harry’d opened him up for the first time. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, considering he’d replayed that night in his head a million times. He also thought back to all the times Harry’d had his fingers in him over the past month….how he would stretch him and find his spot and make him come. Suddenly, all of his doubts and worries were just...gone. And when Harry heard the cap pop open, Louis watched as a smile crept across his face, and that was all it took. Louis poured a small amount onto the tip of his index finger and rubbed it where his tongue had been--marveling at how wet it still was. He repeated this a couple of times, not because Harry needed it, but because Louis loved the sounds Harry made when he did it. 

After a third time, Louis coated his middle and index finger and brought the later up and slowly pushed. Louis couldn’t get enough of the warm, wet heat the enveloped his finger--it was an amazing feeling--and suddenly his mind was racing. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get his cock where his finger was. Losing most of his hesitation, he pushed in deeper, then pulled out slowly, only to repeat the process, moving a little faster each time. 

“Fuck, Lou. Yeah. Like that. Fuck,” Harry moaned out as he started working his hips down on the single digit. “Another, please. now.”

And Louis obliged. Pulling his index most of the way out, he pulled it to the side and lined up his middle finger as well, turned his wrist up, and pushed back inside. He only got about half way inside when he felt Harry tense up on him. 

“Haz?” Louis questioned, watching as Harry’s jaw tightened. 

“More slick, I think,” Harry requested quietly. Louis pulled his fingers back, coated them thoroughly, and continued. 

“Better?” Louis asked as he pushed back inside. 

“Much,” Harry whimpered--and Louis was happy to see his jaw relax and feel his hips move again. “So good. Just like that for a while, love.”

After a few minutes, Louis could feel Harry’s body start to loosen a bit. Without giving Harry any warning, he buried his two fingers deep and pulled the apart with equal pressure. 

“Fuck,” Harry cried out as he arched his back and pulled his knees up higher . “Do that again.” 

And Louis did. Less carefully, Louis began a steady rhythm. Each time he’d push in deep, he’d pull his fingers apart and stretch Harry. After a bit, and mainly because of the way Harry reacting, he began to twist his fingers and stretch in different directions. It was absolutely amazing--and Louis loved it. It, and the way Harry was working with him now, pushing his hips down every time Louis would twist in deep, and arching that little bit more each time he would pull his fingers apart. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any hotter…

“Turn your wrist up, Lou. And push in deep…..yeah….just like that….so good….now crook your fingers….no…..like this….watch…..”

Harry moved one of his hands down across his belly and demonstrated to Louis the movement he wanted. 

“Now back in deep…..fuck….now…..yes….like I showed you…..hmmmmm…..deep again...twist a little to the right…...and then…….yes...right there….right…..oh my god...there….do you feel it?” Harry practically begged. “Again…..Lou…..Louis..….”

Louis didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, but listening to Harry instruct him, then watching him fall apart when Louis found that certain spot inside of him, proved him wrong. Dead wrong. And now that he knew where, Louis was so, so proud--and relentless. Caution thrown to the wind, Louis allowed himself to play. After half a minute or so of teasing brushes, Louis would pull across the spot, hard--then go back to teasing. He loved the way Harry would almost lose his breath when he’d do it like that. So on the next push in, he crooked his fingers first--hitting him from a different angle, causing Harry’s body to tighten up on him so exquisitely, so perfectly, that he just had to have more. Without asking, Louis pulled his fingers out, coated them again--along with his ring finger--brought the three together tightly, and pushed back in. 

“Lou….wait….” Harry tensed, jaw set once again. “Wait…”

Louis steadied his hand and placed soft, relaxing kisses across Harry’s belly. 

“Yes...move again...soft.…”

Louis worked his fingers slowly in and out of his boyfriend, watching his face this time, for any sign of discomfort. He’d never felt this much love and concern for another person in his life. And he was pretty sure he never would. When he looked down to watch his fingers work their way very very gently in and out of his boyfriend’s body, he was overwhelmed. After a few long minutes, Harry finally began working his hips down, but not like before. And soon, he reached down and rubbed a thumb across Louis’ wet cheek. 

“Louis?” Harry called gently, using his fingers to lift up his chin. “Come here.” 

Louis could see that Harry’s cheeks were as wet as his felt--and he wondered when they both started to cry. But it didn’t matter. Louis sat himself up and watched as Harry grabbed the slick and poured a generous amount into his own palm, then reached an arm around his boyfriend to pull him down. And Louis thought he’d lose it when Harry touched him for the first time that night--hand wet with slick and intent--then pulled his knees up and tucked them under Louis’ chest. Understanding, Louis reached underneath himself and guided his cock up against Harry. 

“Haz?” Louis asked--his cheeks wet yet again--as he looked down into Harry’s brilliant green eyes. 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, “love you.” 

“And I love you too, Hazza, so much,” Louis whispered, smiling down at him and asking--without words--for the final go ahead. And when Harry returned the smile and nodded, Louis used his hand until he felt himself catch on Harry’s rim, and sank forward. Bit by bit, tear by tear, soft word on top of soft word, Louis filled him. It wasn’t fast, and it definitely wasn’t meaningless. It was a baring of the soul, really. And later that night, after Louis had cleaned him and fed him and wrapped him up tight, the two lay talking and cuddling for hours and hours--until the sun peeking through the window let them know they needed sleep--but neither wanted to surrender to it. 

“Louis?” Harry whispered quietly, half-asleep and dreaming.

“Hmmm?” Louis answered, pulling Harry’s arm tighter around him. 

“Will it always be like this?” 

“I certainly hope so,” Louis mumbled in reply, “This is where we belong.” 

Louis could feel Harry smile into where he was snuggled close against his back, and he’d never felt more content in his life. 

“I belong here with you,” Harry whispered, drifting further into dreamland. 

But even has Harry finally slept, Louis stayed awake awhile longer, thinking about the past three months, Harry, and all the changes that had happened because he moved here. Belong, indeed. And he had no intention of ever letting him go. He hadn’t told him yet, but he was going to attend Doncaster College and University and planned on getting an honors degree in International Football Management. He thought Harry would like that, and Louis couldn’t imagine for a second a world where he couldn’t see Harry every day. In the end, it was his grades that paved the way, not his feet--and that was ok with him. He loved football, but he loved Harry Styles more, so he’d passed on playing low level ball. He wanted a life--a life that included good earnings and Harry--and he had zero regrets about his decision. 

Also, his mum said she had monies set aside for him, so he could move out, if he wanted to. But he didn’t think he would--not at first, anyway. His mother still needed his help, and he would miss his family too much. Harry hadn’t really played into his decision on that one--but his mother sure did. He wouldn’t leave her to do it all by herself. And when sleep finally overtook him, he felt as settled as a person could. And he knew, now, that Harry was much more than a boyfriend. He was his soul mate. And as he drifted off he made a promise to never let anything come between them again. And Harry must have felt the same way, because through it all, it was LouisandHarry, HarryandLouis. And it was Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it :) Of course, there will always be a happy ending when I write H/L. I couldn't write it any other way.


	24. Where you belong....

The next month was both busy and frustrating for both Harry and Louis. Tournament play started, and ended, with a near-championship. But coach Paul said that Louis’ performance was most likely good enough for him to get some calls. Harry tried his best not to think about that too much. School settled down after a week or two--and people actually got used to seeing the two of them together, though they rarely held hands and almost never kissed in public. Shelley still gave them disapproving looks whenever she got within leering distance, but she mostly kept her comments to herself. Harry knew that had something to do with Becks, but she was as tight lipped about that as she was everything else in her life, so Harry just went with it. Anything that kept that little monster out of his business and away from Louis was alright by him, no matter what it was. And Louis seemed to feel the same. Basically, life started to slow down and even out, for once. And Harry was finally content. He had an amazing GPA, an amazing boyfriend, and amazing friends. He and Zayn had worked through their issues and Harry was happy to call him a friend--though he was still a bit cautious with him when it came to Louis. It’s not that he didn’t trust him, exactly. It was just that he sometimes caught Zayn looking at his boyfriend a little too long, seemingly lost in thought--and Harry didn’t like it. At all. Even though, Harry’d let Zayn sleep over at his a few night when his dad was being a particularly drunk asshole, and Zayn had even talked to Harry’s dad about things--which did very little in the way of actually helping the situation. Zayn just shrugged it off and said that he was out of there in a few months anyway, so it didn’t really matter anymore. He had a few offers coming his way, to be sure. He’d even gone to a few try outs--something he kept very quiet--and Harry was quite sure he performed very well at them--if what Louis said was true. Louis said that Zayn was actually the best out of all of them--better than anyone he’d seen. So he wasn’t worried that he’d find a place away from his dad, somewhere. And Harry thought his last name and football pedigree wouldn’t discourage anyone from taking a chance on him, either. 

Not surprisingly, Stan became a constant fixture in his life as well. And other than Louis and Mark, he was his truest friend. He even invited him over for Tacos after Harry’d been invited over to meet his stepmonster and absentee dad. It was fun, and his parents loved him--but not quite as much as his sister did. Mark came to visit in November, claiming he needed a serious break before finals--but Harry knew the truth. He wanted to meet Louis and get a first-hand look at their relationship. He approved. And that single thing--even though it really wouldn’t have made a difference in how Harry lived his life--did comfort him a great deal. He knew Mark would never hold back or lie to him--and when Mark hugged him and told him how wonderfully happy he was that he had someone like Louis in his life, well. And Harry was happy when, a few days later, Mark Skyped him and introduced him to a nice man he had been seeing for a while. 

Winter formal came and went, too. Harry and Louis were there together, obviously. But they didn’t slow dance--only danced in groups--and had the perfect time. Louis usually won all the “King of the Universe” awards at school--but this year he was passed up for Winter Formal King--and nobody was really that surprised, least of all Louis. He didn’t want to stand up there with Shelley, anyway, and he was happy to let Liam take the honors--though Liam didn’t feel much better about standing up there with her any more than Louis would have. He just shrugged, took the photo, then took off back to his date. 

On the walk home from the formal, Louis surprised Harry by linking their hands together. Harry could tell there was something on his mind, but he didn’t push. He just enjoyed the feel of his boyfriend’s hand in his and the almost cold air that helped to clear his head after three hours of loud music, too-sweet punch and stale cake. 

“You know,” Louis started, “this reminds me of the night we walked to yours after I told my mom I was gay.” 

Harry smiled at the memory. “Does it now?” Harry teased. He loved it when Louis thought of that night. 

“Mhm,” Louis hummed, gripping Harry’s hand a little tighter. “And what happened after.”

Harry’s smile widened as he stopped walking and pulled Louis to him. 

“And I was thinking,” Louis continued, “ that maybe it’s your turn, love.”

And Harry froze. This is what he’d been waiting for. Praying for, even. This is what’s been clouding his judgment and making it near impossible to concentrate for the past few weeks. Maybe longer. But he’d let Louis take the lead with it. He didn’t want to push him, and to be honest, he absolutely loved being inside of his boyfriend, so he didn’t feel the need to rush him. But Harry could feel the adrenaline push through his body at the thought of it. 

“Are you sure, Lou?” Harry questioned quietly--but there was no conviction in it. And Louis read him like a paperback. 

“Well, I guess we could wait….”

Harry didn’t let him finish. Instead, he damn near attacked him, right there on the street. He didn’t care who saw. He didn’t care what anyone would think. He had to let Louis know what he was feeling and thinking in that exact instance--and nothing could make him wait. After a bit, Louis pulled back gently and retook his hand and started walking again. 

“You know, I could walk really really slow. And then pretend I’ve forgotten my keys once we get up to the door. I could even make you sit and eat and cut up some cheese as slow as humanly possible, just to make you suffer,” Louis teased. “Remember?”

Harry just laughed. “I remember. I’ll never forget that night. I just wanted to take care of you. Make sure everything was perfect.”

“I think you just wanted to torture me,” Louis laughed back, knocking his hip into Harry. 

“Maybe,” Harry confessed. “You made me wait for like six weeks or summat. You deserved it.”

“What?” Louis feigned innocence. “I would never deny you. How very dare you make such an allegation?”

“Please,” Harry snickered. “You knew what you were doing. Don’t even try and deny it.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” Louis teased back. “Besides, I wanted to make sure I was in love with you, first. And that you were in love with me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely in love with you,” Harry quipped. “You and your cock.”

“You should be,” Louis played back. “It is rather impressive.”

“Gosh but don’t I know it,” Harry sang back. He loved it when they bantered like this. “Do you think it will even fit?”

Louis blushed at that, and Harry hauled him back in for a soothing kiss that his boyfriend immediately opened up for. He didn’t want Louis to worry about anything. 

“It will, right?” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear once the kiss ended. “Fit, I mean?”

“Dunno, really,” Harry played back, happy that his earlier comment didn’t spoil the mood. “Might take you a while to prep me, though. Just to make sure.” 

At that, Louis ground up into Harry, letting his boyfriend know he was up for the task. “I’ll make sure. Promise, love,” Louis let out, a little softer than before. “Wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you feel as amazing as I always do.” 

The duo walked the rest of the way in relative silence, and Harry was glad for it. His mind was filled with Louis and his body was shaking from the inside out with lust and impatience. He wondered if Louis had felt the same way when he walked to his house a few weeks ago with the same thing on his mind. Harry had to admit to himself that he wasn’t really prepared for what he was feeling. He was overwhelmed, already. Overwhelmed by his boyfriend’s confidence. Overwhelmed by the massive amount of love and lust coursing through him. And overwhelmed by the sense of urgency he couldn’t shake. He actually thought he’d drop down right here on the sidewalk if he thought Louis would allow it, and just get to it. 

Once they were inside, Harry knew he couldn’t wait any longer. But Louis seemed to have other plans. Not surprisingly, Louis made his way into the small kitchen, leaving Harry no other option but to follow. 

“Sit down,” Louis requested. “I’ve made us a plate. You know. Fruit and cheese and whatnot.”

“No juice?” Harry quipped. “I think I’m going to need juice.”

Louis just smirked and took pre-made plates and pre-poured glasses of juice out of the fridge and set them on the pre-prepared table, silverware and all.

“Planning for something, Lou?” Harry asked, taking it all in. “Quite presumptuous don’t you think? What if I would have said no?”

Louis just laughed and sat down next to Harry and started eating. “I was feeling pretty confident we were on the same page. You know. Seeing as how you’ve been rubbing your arse into my crotch for weeks. Figured I might as well give you what you want.”

“I have not!” Harry played back, taking a large drink of his juice. “When have I ever rubbed my arse against you?”

“Uhm….like all the time, maybe?” Louis smiled back. “But it’s ok….I like it.” 

“Well, then,” Harry shrugged, “what are you complaining about?”

“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Louis smiled out. “Just had to make sure you were in love with me first.”

“You know something Louis?” Harry asked, having cleaned his plate and scooted back a bit. 

“What’s that love?”

“I love you. I really fucking love you. Like an amazing amount of love. I love you more than anyone could love another human being. Now please, hurry the fuck up and finish your food. Please.”

“Careful, Harry,” Louis fake-warned. “If you continue to speak to me with that tone, we might not make it upstairs. I might just bend you over this kitchen table and get on with it right here.”

“Hmmmm….tempting,” Harry worded out. His cock was definitely paying attention, now. “But I think I’d rather go up to your room, if it’s all the same. I love it in there, you know. It’s where we fell in love. All those weeks of music and homework and talking about our families. That was the place.”

Louis positively beamed at that. And to be honest, he was just as impatient as Harry. Smiling, he got up, helped Harry out of the chair and curled himself around his back. 

“Lead the way,” he whispered into Harry’s ear--and so he did--taking extra care to grind back into Louis the entire short distance. And by the time they were inside Louis’ small room, he was so, so hard. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis moaned out, pulling Harry back into him and pushing forward. 

“Like that?” Harry teased, arching just that little bit more so that Louis could grind almost between his high cheeks. 

“God, yes,” Louis stammered out, as he continued the motion. “But I’m pretty sure I’d like it even more if we had less clothes on.” 

Harry turned around and pulled Louis in close. “You looked so handsome tonight, love. You should wear a tux everywhere you go.”

“So should you. Tailored pants suit you,” Louis mumbled as he peppered gentle kisses along Harry’s neck and down towards his collar bone. Louis had learned a lot about what Harry liked over the past month. 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry moaned out.

“Like that?” Louis quipped back, working to the other side and giving it the same treatment. 

“Hmmmm…” Harry sighed out, relaxing at the warm feel of Louis’ mouth. “Yes.” 

Louis slowly slid Harry’s jacket off and started working the buttons on his crisp white shirt. He took his time, pausing to place wet, open-mouthed kisses each time a new area of skin was revealed. And by the time he reached the last button, he was on his knees before his boyfriend. Continuing his achingly slow, teasing place, he released the button and slid the zip down of the tailored pants he loved so much, and tugged them down to the floor, and then did the same with Harry’s pants.

“Step,” Louis requested, and Harry did so--taking his shirt the rest of the way off in the process. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Louis mumbled as he watched Harry finish with his shirt. “Now come here...I want to taste you.”

Harry quickly obliged and he thought he might die as Louis wrapped his fist around his cock and rubbed the leaking head across his tongue. Louis had developed his own technique, and Harry was definitely obsessed with it. It was both firm and slow--and it could take Harry apart. After using his tongue, Louis would usually wrap both hands around him and grip his arse to pull him deeper, but today he seemed to have other ideas. Just when he’d usually let go, he tightened his stroke and sucked stronger and faster. And just when Harry was about to warn Louis to stop, he lost his mind when he felt, for the first time, Louis’ split-slick finger push against his opening--and he fucking lost it. His orgasm hit him so hard and so unexpectedly that, at first, he didn’t notice that Louis hadn’t pulled off. And when he finally regained his mental stability, and collapsed into Louis’ arms, it hit him. 

“Don’t look so alarmed, love,” Louis smirked at him, when Harry gave him a look of concern. 

“Oh my god, Lou...you….did you?” Harry stammered, still breathless and light-headed.

“Hmmmm….yeah,” Louis supplied as he rubbed his thumb across his boyfriend’s cheek. “I guess I did.”

“You are so fucking amazing, Lou. That was amazing. I can’t even explain how much,” Harry mumbled before joining their mouths together. “And you taste so fucking good…”

“I should,” Louis replied between sloppy kisses, “I taste like you.”

“Still so cheeky,” Harry mused thoughtfully, taking in the sight of his disheveled, mostly dressed boyfriend. “I think it’s time we get you out of this tux, love.”

“Think so?” Louis quizzed--his blue eyes twinkling beneath his lashes. 

“Definitely,” Harry nodded. “And Lou?”

“Yeah Haz?” Louis replied as his lifted himself off the floor and then helped Harry do the same. 

“I was thinking….you know what would be nice?”

“Hmmm?” Louis hummed, as Harry went to work on his trousers, and then his pants. 

“A shower….maybe. How does that sound? Do you think you would like that?” Harry questioned cautiously, holding eye contact. They hadn’t showered together since Harry’d cleaned him out after Louis’ first time, and Harry thought it would be a nice way to ease his boyfriend into...well….what came next. 

“Maybe after?” Louis responded softly with a quizzical look on his face. “Would that be alright?”

“Yeah...I just thought….”

“You think too much, Haz,” Louis whispered as he stepped out of his pants and turned his boyfriend around and snuggled up behind him, letting him know just how ready he was. “I know what you’re thinking, love. But I’m good. I’m beyond good--so stop worrying and let me….let me take care of you.”

Harry positively whimpered. Just the way Louis said what he said had him thickening up against his thigh. 

“No more worrying,” Louis whispered in his ear as he guided him over to his bed. “And on your tummy, if you please.” 

Harry shot a quick glance back over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the man behind him. Louis just raised his right back and reached around him, rearranged a pillow, and gently pushed on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Hips up for me, Haz,” Louis mumbled right behind his earlobe as he followed him down--sucking a deep mark just above his shoulder blade as they went. 

Louis lifted up and waited as Harry got himself settled properly, and went back to work on his neck--leaving purple marks in his wake--as he slowly moved his way down. And by the time Louis left a particularly dark mark right where his back gave way to his arse, Harry was positively squirming and grinding beneath him. And fuck if that didn’t get Louis off. So much that he sat back on his heels and pressed his thumbs deep into his two latest marks just so he could watch Harry’s body and drink in the too-quiet whimpers he was making. 

“Fuck, Haz,” Louis mumbled breathlessly, “So beautiful. You should see your back….all marked up….so pretty.”

Harry just ground harder into the pillow beneath him and then arched his back up into Louis’ pushing thumbs. And when Harry arched up again, Louis reached around his thighs and pulled his body up a bit so that his arse was just a little bit higher when he lowered him gently back down on the pillow. 

“Haz?” Louis asked as he moved his hands back around and up the back of his boyfriend’s thighs--stopping just before his thumbs could pull him apart. 

“Kiss me?” Harry requested softly, turning his head as best he could so that he could look up at Louis. Carefully, Louis leaned his body up and over, to oblige the request. And as he moved up, he felt the head of his cock slide between the tops of Harry’s cheeks--and he almost lost it. Harry must have sensed it--because he smirked into the kiss, twisting his body a bit so that he could get at Louis better. And for a few minutes it was just lips and tongues and teeth--and it was perfect. Finally, Harry pulled back, nodded, and twisted his body back fully underneath Louis and began to work his hips so that his arse would grind into his boyfriend. After getting lost in the sensation of it, Louis was only pulled back from the bliss when Harry stopped moving and spread his legs wider and arched up. Louis moved back down his body and almost lost it again. With the way that he was positioned, Louis could see him. Really see him--for the first time--and he was mesmerized. So mesmerized, in fact, that he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breath, really. 

“Lou?” Harry mumbled into his pillow, eyes closed--and just as lost in sensation as Louis. 

“Hmmmm,” Louis finally answered--Harry’s voice having pulled him out of his haze. When he looked up and saw how relaxed and ready Harry was, he nodded--more to himself--and finally, finally, let his thumbs drift between Harry’s cheeks and gently pull him apart. He did this a few more times, marveling at how absolutely perfect Harry looked, spread open like that, and Louis couldn’t stop himself. With a not so gentle pull, Louis exposed his boyfriend’s beautiful arse and licked across him like his life depended on it--and maybe it did. He’s pretty sure he felt Harry tense and arch under him--and he’s mostly sure he heard him moan--but he couldn’t be sure. His tongue and brain were on some sort of autopilot. A sex enduced autopilot that had Louis pulling and licking and exploring. He couldn’t have predicted it. He never even knew he wanted it. But it was happening, and it was brilliant. After a while, he became more aware of what he was doing and pointed his tongue--pushing into Harry--out of sheer need. He needed to taste him, so he did. He felt Harry grab the back of his head and twist his fingers through his hair and push, so he twisted his tongue in deeper--lost in the moans Harry was making and the musky smell of him. It was intoxicating. After a while, Harry pulled his head back, and twisted his body once again so that they could see each other. 

Louis looked amazed, if a little stunned, while Harry looked on him with astounded disbelief. Quickly, Harry pulled the pillow aside and tossed it somewhere on the floor, crawled up and wrapped his body around Louis and held him tight. 

“Christ, Lou,” Louis mumbled into his ear, running his fingers through the back of his baby fine hair. “That was….was….I can’t even explain what that was.”

“Me either,” Louis whispered out, still a bit breathless. “Was it….good...Haz?” 

Harry smiled against Louis’ neck and nodded--and in that instant, Louis couldn’t wait any more. “Lay back now, love,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear. “Are you….can I?”

“Yeah….don’t want to wait anymore…..can’t,” Harry nodded out, leaning back to reach over to the small nightstand to grab the slick he’d noticed was there earlier. Louis took it from him, laid it next to him, and gently pushed on Harry’s chest. Smiling, Harry stretched himself out, then lifted his hips and brought his knees up and then wide, opening himself up once again for Louis. 

“Christ, Haz,” Louis mumbled, taking in the sight of him again. “I’m never going to get used to seeing you spread open like this. Never.” 

“Fingers Lou. Please,” Harry practically begged. “Please.”

The whining tone of Harry’s voice went straight to his cock, and it took every ounce of brain power within him to focus. Louis had been daydreaming about this for weeks. He had a plan. He knew he could do this--but he wanted it to be perfect. Harry deserved everything in his life to be perfect, and Louis all at once felt the pressure of it weigh on him. Harry must have read his mind, because he reached up and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t worry about everything being perfect, Louis. Whatever you do will be amazing, love. So don’t worry,” Harry cooed, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand for reassurance. “Promise.”

“I love you so much,” Louis mumbled as he leaned over Harry’s body and kissed him. 

“And I love you,” Harry replied. “Do you want me to talk you through it? Or can you….”

“I can,” Louis interrupted. “Just tell me if something doesn’t feel good.” 

“I will,” Harry hummed out, relaxing back yet again. “Promise.”

Reassured, Louis thought back to how Harry’d opened him up for the first time. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, considering he’d replayed that night in his head a million times. He also thought back to all the times Harry’d had his fingers in him over the past month….how he would stretch him and find his spot and make him come. Suddenly, all of his doubts and worries were just...gone. And when Harry heard the cap pop open, Louis watched as a smile crept across his face, and that was all it took. Louis poured a small amount onto the tip of his index finger and rubbed it where his tongue had been--marveling at how wet it still was. He repeated this a couple of times, not because Harry needed it, but because Louis loved the sounds Harry made when he did it. 

After a third time, Louis coated his middle and index finger and brought the later up and slowly pushed. Louis couldn’t get enough of the warm, wet heat the enveloped his finger--it was an amazing feeling--and suddenly his mind was racing. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get his cock where his finger was. Losing most of his hesitation, he pushed in deeper, then pulled out slowly, only to repeat the process, moving a little faster each time. 

“Fuck, Lou. Yeah. Like that. Fuck,” Harry moaned out as he started working his hips down on the single digit. “Another, please. now.”

And Louis obliged. Pulling his index most of the way out, he pulled it to the side and lined up his middle finger as well, turned his wrist up, and pushed back inside. He only got about half way inside when he felt Harry tense up on him. 

“Haz?” Louis questioned, watching as Harry’s jaw tightened. 

“More slick, I think,” Harry requested quietly. Louis pulled his fingers back, coated them thoroughly, and continued. 

“Better?” Louis asked as he pushed back inside. 

“Much,” Harry whimpered--and Louis was happy to see his jaw relax and feel his hips move again. “So good. Just like that for a while, love.”

After a few minutes, Louis could feel Harry’s body start to loosen a bit. Without giving Harry any warning, he buried his two fingers deep and pulled the apart with equal pressure. 

“Fuck,” Harry cried out as he arched his back and pulled his knees up higher . “Do that again.” 

And Louis did. Less carefully, Louis began a steady rhythm. Each time he’d push in deep, he’d pull his fingers apart and stretch Harry. After a bit, and mainly because of the way Harry reacting, he began to twist his fingers and stretch in different directions. It was absolutely amazing--and Louis loved it. It, and the way Harry was working with him now, pushing his hips down every time Louis would twist in deep, and arching that little bit more each time he would pull his fingers apart. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any hotter…

“Turn your wrist up, Lou. And push in deep…..yeah….just like that….so good….now crook your fingers….no…..like this….watch…..”

Harry moved one of his hands down across his belly and demonstrated to Louis the movement he wanted. 

“Now back in deep…..fuck….now…..yes….like I showed you…..hmmmmm…..deep again...twist a little to the right…...and then…….yes...right there….right…..oh my god...there….do you feel it?” Harry practically begged. “Again…..Lou…..Louis..….”

Louis didn’t think he could possibly get any harder, but listening to Harry instruct him, then watching him fall apart when Louis found that certain spot inside of him, proved him wrong. Dead wrong. And now that he knew where, Louis was so, so proud--and relentless. Caution thrown to the wind, Louis allowed himself to play. After half a minute or so of teasing brushes, Louis would pull across the spot, hard--then go back to teasing. He loved the way Harry would almost lose his breath when he’d do it like that. So on the next push in, he crooked his fingers first--hitting him from a different angle, causing Harry’s body to tighten up on him so exquisitely, so perfectly, that he just had to have more. Without asking, Louis pulled his fingers out, coated them again--along with his ring finger--brought the three together tightly, and pushed back in. 

“Lou….wait….” Harry tensed, jaw set once again. “Wait…”

Louis steadied his hand and placed soft, relaxing kisses across Harry’s belly. 

“Yes...move again...soft.…”

Louis worked his fingers slowly in and out of his boyfriend, watching his face this time, for any sign of discomfort. He’d never felt this much love and concern for another person in his life. And he was pretty sure he never would. When he looked down to watch his fingers work their way very very gently in and out of his boyfriend’s body, he was overwhelmed. After a few long minutes, Harry finally began working his hips down, but not like before. And soon, he reached down and rubbed a thumb across Louis’ wet cheek. 

“Louis?” Harry called gently, using his fingers to lift up his chin. “Come here.” 

Louis could see that Harry’s cheeks were as wet as his felt--and he wondered when they both started to cry. But it didn’t matter. Louis sat himself up and watched as Harry grabbed the slick and poured a generous amount into his own palm, then reached an arm around his boyfriend to pull him down. And Louis thought he’d lose it when Harry touched him for the first time that night--hand wet with slick and intent--then pulled his knees up and tucked them under Louis’ chest. Understanding, Louis reached underneath himself and guided his cock up against Harry. 

“Haz?” Louis asked--his cheeks wet yet again--as he looked down into Harry’s brilliant green eyes. 

“Yes,” Harry whispered, “love you.” 

“And I love you too, Hazza, so much,” Louis whispered, smiling down at him and asking--without words--for the final go ahead. And when Harry returned the smile and nodded, Louis used his hand until he felt himself catch on Harry’s rim, and sank forward. Bit by bit, tear by tear, soft word on top of soft word, Louis filled him. It wasn’t fast, and it definitely wasn’t meaningless. It was a baring of the soul, really. And later that night, after Louis had cleaned him and fed him and wrapped him up tight, the two lay talking and cuddling for hours and hours--until the sun peeking through the window let them know they needed sleep--but neither wanted to surrender to it. 

“Louis?” Harry whispered quietly, half-asleep and dreaming.

“Hmmm?” Louis answered, pulling Harry’s arm tighter around him. 

“Will it always be like this?” 

“I certainly hope so,” Louis mumbled in reply, “This is where we belong.” 

Louis could feel Harry smile into where he was snuggled close against his back, and he’d never felt more content in his life. 

“I belong here with you,” Harry whispered, drifting further into dreamland. 

But even has Harry finally slept, Louis stayed awake awhile longer, thinking about the past three months, Harry, and all the changes that had happened because he moved here. Belong, indeed. And he had no intention of ever letting him go. He hadn’t told him yet, but he was going to attend Doncaster College and University and planned on getting an honors degree in International Football Management. He thought Harry would like that, and Louis couldn’t imagine for a second a world where he couldn’t see Harry every day. In the end, it was his grades that paved the way, not his feet--and that was ok with him. He loved football, but he loved Harry Styles more, so he’d passed on playing low level ball. He wanted a life--a life that included good earnings and Harry--and he had zero regrets about his decision. 

Also, his mum said she had monies set aside for him, so he could move out, if he wanted to. But he didn’t think he would--not at first, anyway. His mother still needed his help, and he would miss his family too much. Harry hadn’t really played into his decision on that one--but his mother sure did. He wouldn’t leave her to do it all by herself. And when sleep finally overtook him, he felt as settled as a person could. And he knew, now, that Harry was much more than a boyfriend. He was his soul mate. And as he drifted off he made a promise to never let anything come between them again. And Harry must have felt the same way, because through it all, it was LouisandHarry, HarryandLouis. And it was Beautiful.


End file.
